


in the Now

by NewHopeIVReylo



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben Solo is Trying, E is for Eventually, F/F, F/M, Female Ejaculation, Kaydel is A Little Much, Lactation, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Phasma is Actually the Hero of This Story, Rey is Bad at Feelings (Star Wars), Sex Toys, Simultaneously Too Much Information About Theatre and Not Nearly Enough, Slow Burn, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:06:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 74,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29224413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewHopeIVReylo/pseuds/NewHopeIVReylo
Summary: The Royal Shakespeare Company has arrived in Denver to mount a multimillion dollar co-production of Tantalus, a 12-hour epic version of the Trojan War. Ben and Rey are determined not to get involved in a "showmance". That will probably work, right?Theatre clichés and storytelling tropes abound. Loosely based on actual events, including Ben Solo's high-waisted pants.
Relationships: Jannah/Rose Tico, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey/Ben Solo
Comments: 66
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note:
> 
> In November of 2000, I saw a play. A very long, very expensive play. 
> 
> I wanted to hate this play. I had just done a long play myself. At a mere six hours it was half the length of the one I was watching, with a total budget much closer to $800 than $8 million. It had been a grueling and glorious experience, but we’d struggled through the summer to get audiences. We finally closed, to great reviews but just a smattering of applause. All anyone could talk about was "Tantalus". So I went in with a chip on my shoulder the size of the rock that hangs suspended over the titular god. 
> 
> All this is to say that, twenty years later, there are moments in Tantalus that are seared into my brain. It was a towering and spectacular work of theatrical genius, but it also had some of the quietest, most beautiful moments I’ve ever seen on a stage. I loved this play.
> 
> So, as the 20th anniversary of the production approached, I got to thinking about this play again, and once it took hold it refused to let me go.
> 
> A lot of the story that follows actually happened. 
> 
> The production destroyed the 50+ year friendship of playwright John Barton and director Peter Hall, the founders of the RSC. 
> 
> Descriptions of the sets and costumes are accurate, including the costume that - in my headcanon - served as the inspiration for our beloved Shirtless Kylo, circa TLJ. Prove me wrong. 
> 
> Characters are frequently but very loosely based on real people, like the writer upon which I based Beaumont Kin, and the actor upon which Leia is modeled. And Kaydel, complete with questionable decisions...
> 
> I’ve played fast and loose with the timeline - please imagine this happening in a magical time and place post-smartphone but pre-smoking ban, before Lyft and Uber roamed the land. And Denver still had a world class training conservatory for actors. RIP NTC.
> 
> I’ve included far more detail about the production process than anyone needs or wants, and yet explained almost none of it. At the same time, I’ve taken liberties and arbitrarily ignored things that I am sure to regret.
> 
> I am sorry for all of it. Feel free to holler at me in the comments.

**_“No motive is pure. No one is good or bad — but a hearty mix of both. And sometimes life actually gives to you by taking away.”_ **

_\--Carrie Fisher_

“No. No, no, no, absolutely not. It’s impossible. She can’t just up and leave like this. We’ve got to get her back, I don’t care what it takes.”

Luke Skywalker stopped shuffling frantically through Bazine’s contract in search of a loophole and tugged his reading glasses violently from the bridge of his nose. 

Gwendolyn Phasma sighed and fiddled with the zipper of the well-worn pewter leather jacket she never seemed to take off. She chanced a brief glance at Luke as he hunched over the director’s table. The producers had provided him with a small but well-appointed office for the duration of their stay, but he chose instead to make use of her small table in the theatre. It was currently covered in random paperwork, handwritten notes, costume renderings, and lighting plots, and Phasma fleetingly wondered how he’d managed to put his hands on Bazine Netal’s contract so quickly. She was forever fishing Luke’s haphazardly flung papers from between the rows of seats.

“Look, maybe we should have pushed her a little harder to join Actor’s Equity and sign a standard Principle contract. But you were so desperate to have her, Luke. Besides, all of our British cast members signed the same one Bazine did, so it hardly seemed like we were in a position to press the matter.” Phasma groaned inwardly at the memory of the protracted negotiations between the British and American Equity representatives, but pressed on. “There’s not much we can do besides extend the Equity membership offer and hope for the best. I could never in a million years have anticipated that she would nope the fuck out of here like this, just for the _promise_ of an HBO series. Good gods, it’s not even pilot season.”

Luke huffed out a laugh at that, which Phasma decided to take as a promising sign. The use of “gods” rather than “god” as a curse was their private in-joke. She plowed ahead, sensing an opening.

“Do I need to remind you that just yesterday you were ranting about Bazine’s lack of chemistry with Ben? How it just seemed to get worse rather than better the longer they rehearsed?” 

Luke let out a groan, and pressed the heels of his hands to his bloodshot eyes. “Five months of rehearsal wasted on that vain, self-centered cow. Gods, I am an idiot.”

Phasma waited patiently for him to continue. Unlike Bazine Netal, she had _not_ wasted the last five months, and she could read Luke’s mercurial moods like a book. Now, for instance, she knew Luke was just winding up for another of his aforementioned rants, and it was better to let him get it all out uninterrupted.

“I was so sure that whatever Bazine lacked in... hell, I don’t know... _emotional depth_ , she more than made up for with that amazing physicality of hers. She moved like a goddamned panther, and she was absolutely riveting as Thetis. But when that mask came off, it was a disaster. She just couldn’t seem to connect with Ben. It’s the emotional climax of the whole play, the whole goddamned cycle, we’ve been working up to it for _hours_ at that point, and her Cassandra just… it just fell flat. Every. Single. Time.”

“How the hell are we going to find an actor here in Denver with enough mask work under their belt to take over with less than four weeks before we open? We definitely don’t have enough time to cast this out of New York." Groaning again, even louder than before, Luke ran shaking hands through his already dishevelled mop of graying hair. "If only we were back in London...”

Phasma sighed. “Well, we’ll move Jessika up out of the Chorus, she’s been understudying all of Bazine’s roles. We can probably cast someone out of the Conservatory to replace Jess in the Chorus and get them up to speed. They’ll be spending more time in a bikini than a mask anyway.” 

As Luke continued his screed against both Bazine and the fickle theatre gods, Phasma mentally crossed her fingers. She hoped she was right. They’d cast absolutely everyone out of either New York or London. Up to and including poor Jessika Pava. Phasma had been given to understand that Jess received her MFA training here at the Denver Center’s (surprisingly reputable) National Theatre Conservatory, but somehow couldn’t get cast in a show here until she moved to New York to audition. She wasn’t sure why the Denver Center had such a bias against using local talent, it was so different at the RSC...

It wasn’t as if they were here by choice; there were simply no European backers with the millions of dollars that a production this size required. It was only through sheer good luck that Luke’s old friend Lando Calrissian had come up to scratch - and at the time, it seemed like a small price to pay when he asked them to put _Tantalus_ up as a joint production between the Royal Shakespeare Company and the Denver Center Theatre Company, rehearsing and premiering it here in Denver. In return, he would help finance the tour of England as well as the final run at the Barbican in London. 

In retrospect, it seemed like a bad bargain. 

Since they’d started rehearsals at the end of March, one actor had quit and they’d sacked another. Just two weeks ago, Luke’s co-director Dopheld Mitaka had gone back to London for the “weekend” and never returned. And the playwright, Sir John Snoke, had decamped in a fury back to England after refusing to have a single word of his 15-hour epic cut, angrily insisting that “if Luke would only direct it exactly as written, it would be perfect”. The crew had begun referring in hushed tones to the “Tantalus Curse”. Phasma was not generally prone to superstition, but even she had to acknowledge that this production had more than its share of bad luck.

Luke sighed and returned his reading glasses back to the tip of his nose, a sure sign that he was preparing to shift into problem-solving mode. 

“Make no mistake, this is an outstanding group of actors. There is not a single woman in the Chorus who couldn’t step in for Bazine. Well, other than Leia. But I don’t want _fine_ , not after all this work. I want crackling, paint-peeling _chemistry_. The audience will have spent the better part of seven hours watching actors in masks by the time Cassandra and Agamemnon remove theirs. There shouldn’t be a dry eye - or a dry seat - in the house when that happens.”

Phasma blanched slightly at Luke’s unfortunate but evocative choice of words, but decided that discretion was the better part of valor right now. Luke’s mildly creepy turn of phrase was downright avuncular by RSC standards, and nothing compared to Snoke’s tendency to belittle and sexualize his actors. 

She resolved silently to do whatever it took to get Jessika ready while she set about finding her replacement. Jessika was a hard-working and talented young actor, and there was no reason why she couldn’t assume Bazine’s roles seamlessly. She’d certainly be a damn sight easier to work with than Netal. The American actor’s appalling behavior would never have been tolerated back home. As Luke continued to mumble distractedly and shuffle through his papers, Phasma began to mentally rearrange the rehearsal schedule and compile countless to-do lists, confident that she’d soon have the situation sorted. She wasn’t the most highly sought after associate director at the Royal Shakespeare Company for naught. 

**\-----**

“Oh, come on, Benjamin, you really must see this show with us. You and I almost never have a night off from rehearsal at the same time. It’s clearly a sign from above. And since I am also forcing your uncle to go, you will not be alone in your misery.” 

Leia’s tone brooked no refusal, and her use of his full Christian name was another bad sign. But Ben Solo was nothing if not stubborn, so he tried another tack. “I almost never have a night off from rehearsal, _full stop_. Surely you don’t begrudge me one evening of solitude, _Mother_.”

Leia rolled her eyes. Ben never called her “Mother” if he could help it. She chose to ignore both the blatant play for maternal sympathy and the arch words and tone. _No one to blame but myself_ , she thought. _I shouldn’t have sent him off to Luke in London, he’s turned into a real goddamned snob_.

“I promise you, you will _not_ regret this.” Leia raised her hand to forestall Ben’s snide response. “I swear to God, Finn dragged me to see the first night of plays practically kicking and screaming. You cannot imagine how much I did _not_ want to see a community theatre production of _The Kentucky Cycle_. Or a community theatre production of _anything_ , come to think of it, I don’t care how hot Finn’s director boyfriend is. But Finn showed me the reviews, and I figured, what the hell. I have to tell you, I was pleasantly surprised… it’s very good, maybe a little uneven here and there.”

Ben made no attempt to hide a snort of derision. The good-looking young tech director had clearly wrapped Leia around his calloused fingers.

Undaunted, Leia plunged ahead. “And if you think I’m going to miss the second half of the cycle, you are just batshit crazy... that role got me my Tony!”

“Nomination, Leia. _Nomination_.” 

Leia waved him off. “And we'd have won Best Play too, if not for that little upstart drama skit _Angels in America_. Goddamn Tony Kushner...” 

Ben snorted again. He knew Leia had played Hannah in at _least_ two productions of Kushner’s play, and that she and the playwright were thick as thieves.

“Anyway, there’s no way I’m missing ‘Fire in the Hole’. It’s the best play in the cycle. And after all this time, I think it’s still my favorite role.”

Seeing the wistful look in his mother’s eye, Ben softened. If he was honest, he truly regretted not seeing the play. By all accounts, Leia was the best thing about an otherwise poorly reviewed show. She’d originated the role of Maryann Rowen in the initial production at the Intiman in Seattle, and to date _The Kentucky Cycle_ was her only Broadway appearance. He hoped it wouldn’t be her last. 

He just hadn’t been able to get over from London, between one thing and another. Of course, he could count on one hand the number of times either of his parents had made it over to see him perform. He tried never to take it personally; such was the life of a journeyman fight choreographer and an itinerant regional theatre actor who barely saw one another, let alone their only son. Still, it stung.

“So, this is just the second half of the play cycle, right?”

“Yes, absolutely! All the raping’s done, just murder and betrayal tonight!” Leia responded with more enthusiasm than was appropriate, the merest hint of a Kentucky twang creeping into her voice. “Honestly, Finn’s boyfriend Poe has directed the ever-lovin’ snot out of this show, and you and Luke should see it just to get some perspective. Maybe I want you both to see what can be done with a production budget of literally tens of dollars. Turns out, a helluva lot.”

As if summoned by magical forces, Leia’s twin appeared at her side. “I confess I am looking forward to getting out and seeing a bit more of Denver,” Luke murmured thoughtfully. “And I can’t help but find a sort of symmetry in all this, really. What are the chances that someone would be producing another play cycle at the same time we are putting up _Tantalus_ across town? And what are the chances that you’ve originated roles in both, Leia?”

“Well, ‘originate’ is a stretch. I’m in the goddamn Chorus, Luke.”

“There are no small parts, only small paychecks...” Ben interjected unhelpfully.

“And I certainly won’t get another Tony for this play.”

“Nomination, Leia. _Nomination_.”

Leia pointedly ignored her brother. “No one will ever know I was in this one, what with the masks, and the crazy wigs, and the layers upon layers of wacky costume pieces you clearly got from the vagrants who sleep on the 16th Street Mall -”

“I believe the preferred term is _unhoused_ , Leia. Or _roofless_ -”

“Oh my god, missing the point! Wherever you got ‘em, I’m sure they cost thousands of dollars.” Leia was just winding Luke up now. Several of the costume pieces Dionysis had designed were works of art and she’d be the first to say so. “Anyway, it’s time you both got out of this building and thought about something else besides this 14-hour monstrosity of a play.”

“It’s 12!” Ben and Luke exclaimed in perfect unison. 

Leia rolled her eyes. “We’re leavin’ in a half-hour, you two. I am starvin’, and there is a Mexican place across the street from the theatre that serves margaritas the size of my head.” Her erstwhile Kentucky accent was back with a vengeance, it seemed.

Ben and Luke looked at one another in silent agreement over two facts: first, Leia was tougher and far more stubborn than either of them, and second, Denver’s Mexican food was vastly superior to London’s.

**\-----**

Rey and Kaydel perched together on the sill of the open window, knees touching, as Kaydel took a long drag from her cigarette. Leaning even further out of the window to exhale smoke over the street below, she chanced a quick glance at the small throng gathered at the box office and let out a throaty chuckle. 

“It’s about goddamn time we got a crowd for this thing. I swear, if I had to do one more performance where there were more of us onstage than in the audience, I was gonna lose my fucking mind.” Kaydel crushed the butt of her cigarette on the window ledge, waving a hand in an ineffectual attempt to clear the remnants of the smoke.

“This is your 30 minute call, house is open -- _Jesus, Connix!_ What the hell?!” Rose pulled the mouthpiece away from her headset and glared at her. “I don’t know what’s worse - you smoking inside the building or hanging halfway out the window to do it! You’re gonna drive me to an early grave.” 

Kaydel hopped off the window sill and brushed a few stray ashes from her breasts before reaching around the diminutive stage manager with both arms and drawing her into a reluctant bear hug. “Aw, come on, Rosie! You know you love me… Besides, where the hell am I supposed to smoke, especially now when we’ve got people actually showing up? The parking lot? In front of the theatre? Maybe in that haunted motherfucking basement?” 

“Oh, I don’t know...maybe _don’t smoke_?” Rose huffed in annoyance and deftly maneuvered out of Kaydel’s embrace. Rey looked back and forth between the two women with barely disguised glee. What began as gentle ribbing had escalated throughout rehearsals, and had reached a fever pitch over the last week or so.

“Not fucking likely, Rosie baby! You know damn well I only smoke at the theatre and not at home, it’s all part of my warmup process. Besides, I’ve got the timing down to the minute. I can’t smoke after 8:30 or I’ve got to pump and dump when I get home -”

“Well, aren’t you just the Mother of the Year...”

Kaydel threw her head back and let out another throaty laugh at this. Rose rolled her eyes, turned decisively and marched back out to the hall toward the green room, continuing her half hour call.

Rey silently considered whether the nightly banter between them was not so random. Rey wouldn’t put it past Rose to figure out a way to wind Kay up on purpose. She did have a pretty big emotional lift in the first two plays of the night, so maybe this weirdly worked to get her into the right frame of mind. The assistant director seemed to have a sixth sense about working with actors, an instinct that paired well with Poe’s innate gift for inventive staging. Even if it was entirely an accident, at least Rose and Kay’s good-natured sparring served to make the nights when they did Part Two of the cycle a lot more entertaining for Rey.

Rey cherished the time she got to spend hanging out with Kay and it had become an essential part of her own warm-up process. Rey was playing young Maryann Rowen in the first play while Kaydel narrated as the older Maryann. She just wished Kay had roles in Part One as well so that she performed every night rather than alternating performances, and they could spend more time together. Kay was... a hoot.

For the most part, the rest of the large cast hung out together in the green room, trying and ultimately failing to ignore Snap as he kept a running and deeply unfunny stand-up routine going. Rey avoided that room at all costs, especially when Kay wasn’t around. And she was grateful that Poe and Rose eschewed large group warm ups of the Zip Zap variety, counting on the two dozen actors to get their shit together individually and collectively. They were ostensibly professional actors, Snap Wexley notwithstanding. 

When Poe cast them as “young” and “old” versions of Maryann, Rey had laughed when Kaydel - who was just ten or so years her senior - punched him in the shoulder, good naturedly but with enough force to knock him back a few steps. “I’m only 35, little man! I’m not an ‘old’ anything!”

She then looked at Rey’s shining dark hair, and announced that she would be dyeing her own blonde hair dark for the show. “No way in hell I’m letting you put a blonde wig on her, Dameron. Better I should look like hell than my sweet Rey.” Thus began Kaydel’s mission to shield her from all slights, both real and imagined. Rey had to admit she sort of loved it; she’d never known her own mother, and Maz had been a loving and supportive but overworked foster mom. For Rey, having her own “stage mom” was a new and revelatory experience. 

Whenever Poe gave Rey a note, Kaydel would bristle with indignation. Kay made sure she got the best of the terrible selection of costume pieces and insisted on making Rey’s ankle length brown skirt herself. She bullied Poe into using Rey in many of the publicity photos. Poe, who was likely being overly critical of Rey because everyone knew they were friends, good-naturedly took Kay’s interference in stride.

Rey was grateful, if sometimes uncomfortable, for the lengths to which Kaydel seemed willing to go to mother her, but she supposed it made some sense. Kay was a new mom, and leaving a four month old baby at home for hours every other night likely left Kaydel with some excess maternal love to share. Rey didn’t allow herself to think it made her special in any way. Her own mother hadn’t thought she was special, after all, so why would Kaydel Connix?

Rey thought about her favorite part of the night, in the second play, when Maryann rallied the miners’ wives to stand up to the coal company.

_I buried four children in this ground, you hear me, four babies, and I didn’t have no choice about it but I got a choice now and I ain’t buryin’ another one!_ Kaydel literally growled the line like a mother grizzly, determined to protect her son no matter what she risked. And on the rare occasions that her husband had brought the baby to the theatre, the look of adoration and contentment on Kay’s face made Rey’s heart hurt a little. Even with all the smoking and drinking and cussing, Kaydel Connix was the kind of mother Rey hoped she would be someday. The kind of mother she wished that she’d had.

“Kay, do you think being a mom has made it easier or harder to do this role?”

“Oh, ugh... yes? So much of both, you wouldn’t believe... I mean, I miss the hell out of my boys, and I hate that Austen has to deal with the baby while these luscious hooters of mine are on the other side of town. There’s a freezer full of breast milk, but Jack clearly considers the bottle an inferior delivery device.”

Kaydel paused and pulled out another cigarette, tapping it on the case and putting it to her lips. Allowing it to dangle there, she continued. “But I gotta tell you, I struggled for so long as an actor to be anything but angry, or funny, or both - onstage _and_ off, if I’m honest. Can’t tell you how many times a director has asked me to cry, and I’m like, ‘you can hit me upside the head with a two-by-four, and I’ll _try_ , but I can’t promise you anything’. And now, I just - I just _feel_ so much. It’s not even the hormones, I swear I’m in the middle of that speech about my babies and I’m fighting back the tears. Every single night.” 

She lit her cigarette, blowing on the cherry and watching it glow to life. “And then my milk lets down. So yeah, maybe it’s the hormones too...”

Rey laughed. “I love that speech, Kay. I really do.”

“Well, I love your speech about the trees holding up the moon and the stars, sweet Rey. Standing offstage and listening to it every night, I get chills every time I hear it, and sometimes I just want to run out there and fold you up in my arms and protect you.” Kay took a long drag. “Not Maryann. You, Rey. You’re just so sweet and lovely and trusting out there. And then I remember that you’re probably tougher than all the rest of us put together. And that if I ran out onstage I’d probably pull focus and Poe would kill me...”

Kaydel paused, sensing Rey’s discomfort. During their pre-show ritual, Kaydel had shared a lot about her life. _A lot_. Rey had shared only a little about hers. Still, Kay believed she had managed to piece together a fairly accurate picture of Rey’s life. 

_No, Rey didn’t need her comp tickets, did anyone else want them?_

_Yes, Rey might be late for rehearsal, she was picking up extra shifts at the plumbing supply warehouse to make up for missing nights at the diner..._

_No, Rey didn’t need a ride home, she knew the safest route home in the dark on her bike, and the rain would feel really good after the heat of the theatre..._

Kay’s brow furrowed. Seeing the look of worry on her face, Rey snaked an arm around her waist and drew her closer. “I think you’re the ‘mom’-est mom in the world, for what it’s worth.”

Kaydel snorted, but tightened the hug. “Yeah, pretty sure that’s not a word, sweet Rey.” 

“Fifteen minutes!” shouted Rose from the hallway.

Young Maryann and Old Maryann answered as one. “Thank you, fifteen!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luke is loosely based on the late, great Sir Peter Hall, the founder of the Royal Shakespeare Company. Snoke is very loosely based on Sir John Barton, the beloved director and teacher. They never spoke again after this play, evidently.
> 
> Leia is inspired in part by the incomparable Jeanne Paulsen, who received a Tony nomination for playing Maryann Rowan in "The Kentucky Cycle", and then spent the better part of a year standing around on a make-believe beach, because she is a goddamn professional, y'all.
> 
> Phasma is an amalgam of no fewer than three different men, because of course she is.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Missy for the beta - I adore you beyond reason, Bunny!
> 
> CW: drinking & smoking, references to lactation and masturbation

**_“I don’t want life to imitate art. I want life to_ ** **be** **_art.”_ **

_\--Carrie Fisher_

Ben spoke a little French, a few words of Japanese, and no Spanish at all, but he wondered if perhaps _El Noa Noa_ was Spanish for “hell”. As he sat folded up in the round corner booth of the dimly lit Mexican restaurant, he thought Sartre was probably onto something: hell truly is other people. Specifically other actors. 

And since he’d found himself wedged into the large booth with his mother on one side and his uncle on another, he saw few opportunities for an exit. The former was his ride, the latter was turning into a regular Falstaff thanks to an enormous pitcher of blue margaritas. Both were in rare form, regaling a captive audience of several young actors who’d never been forced to listen to their heroic tales of narrowly averted onstage disasters. Luke and Leia insisted on recounting these stories simultaneously and to opposite sides of the table, and as a result were nearly shouting over one another to be heard.

“...exited just as I entered stage right, and there were already flames leaping from the bucket...”

“...hadn’t gotten the railing installed in time, and as he and I made our entrance he slipped and started to fall off the top of the staircase. I must have grabbed his arm as I picked up my cue and started my line. He says I kept him from plummeting to his death, but I honestly have no memory...”

“...stage was raked, and I tripped on my exit and went flying spread-eagle to the ground, facing full upstage. Of course, I wasn’t wearing underwear, just wrapped in the bedsheets, so the world was my gynecologist...”

This last anecdote was recounted not by Leia, to Ben’s surprise - it certainly _sounded_ like one of her stories - but by the young actor playing Maryann. 

Well, alright, not _young_. But too young by a decade to be playing the role. 

She and Leia were currently engaged in a friendly but spirited competition to see who could smoke the most cigarettes and tell the most embarrassing stories. Ben had no doubt who the victor would be - Leia had the longer career, after all - but he harbored a grudging respect for the younger woman nonetheless. 

He reached past Luke for the pitcher of house margaritas - he wasn’t touching that blue shit his uncle was drinking for love or money - and refilled his glass. It had been a long evening, and showed every sign of getting longer. Actors just loved to talk, mostly about themselves. 

Still, if Ben was honest with himself, he’d be forced to admit that tonight’s performance wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. Once you got past the whole “hey kids, let’s put on a show in the old barn!” aesthetic of the production, and the - _what had Leia called it?_ \- the “uneven” acting, it was a tightly paced and inventive evening of theatre. This Poe Dameron had certainly made the most of his limited resources, and the spare, theatrical staging lent itself well to the script. 

And there had certainly been a few very good performances. That young actor who played Maryann in the first play was mesmerizing, really... _w_ _hat was her name...Renee? Rhonda?_

His inner theatre critic was interrupted by a quiet voice to his left requesting the margarita pitcher. He started at the sound, surprised by the lovely musical quality of the voice, and realized that it came from the actor who’d played the younger Maryann. He was more surprised to note that this was the first time he’d heard her speak since the cast had arrived. 

In the din of voices surrounding him, he suddenly found himself wishing she’d speak again.

Ben passed the margarita pitcher to her and observed her closely as she filled her glass. She was really lovely, with a heart-shaped face, a generous mouth and wide expressive eyes. She moved with grace, looking around her and wordlessly refilling Finn and Poe’s glasses as well. She glanced back at him in time to catch him staring, and surprised him again by returning his stare in a frank and appraising way which made his cheeks redden.

His mother chose this unfortunate moment to break off her impromptu one-woman show. 

“Benjamin, are you feeling alright? You look a bit flushed. Maybe go easy on the tequila? I know you don’t drink much. ‘My body is a temple’ and all that horseshit,” she continued, waving the Benson & Hedges she’d bummed from Kaydel for emphasis. “Don’t know where you got that, certainly not from me or your father. _You have all the virtues I hate and none of the vices I like._ ” 

She and Kaydel clinked glasses at her Churchill misquote.

Luke chimed in. _“...no man can cause more grief than the one clinging blindly to the vices of his ancestors.”_

“Faulkner?” Leia retorted in disbelief, as she and Kaydel both let out throaty laughs.

Luke ignored them and continued. “He didn’t get it from me either. These blue margaritas are excellent. Still, you _have_ been awfully quiet this evening, Ben. Even for you. Care to tell us what you thought of the show?” 

Silently cursing his uncle for putting him on the spot, he thought about the most diplomatic response he could offer - _maybe something about the lighting design_? - when he heard that lovely voice again.

“Pardon me, perhaps I’m confused. Are you all...related?” The girl - _shit, what was her name, Rayna? Rhiannon?_ \- continued to hold Ben’s gaze, and he found himself momentarily distracted as he tried to determine if her eyes were hazel or green.

“Oh, there’s a story! Let me tell you...”

“Leia.” Ben interjected firmly. “I’m perfectly capable of answering the question...” 

“Why can’t you call me ‘Mom’ like any self-respecting - “

“You’re her son?” The girl - _Rey, that was it_ \- looked at him in astonishment, her lovely mouth forming a perfect “o”.

“You see, this is precisely why I use Dad’s name...”

“Oh, please!” Leia sputtered. “It’s not like anyone would accuse you of nepotism for trying to leverage the name of a B-list stage actress with a handful of Broadway and regional theatre credits and a four episode arc on _Law & Order..._”

Ben turned from Rey to his mother. “One Broadway credit, Leia. And no, that wasn’t my worry. I thought that people would know you and Luke were brother and sister and accuse me of using _him_ to get ahead. He’s certainly the most recognizable man in London theatre next to John Snoke and -”

Luke’s grip around his blue margarita tightened. “Might we, just for one evening, not talk about that pompous ass Snoke?” 

Ben spared a sideways glance at his uncle. Evidently things had gone from bad to worse between Snoke and Skywalker. Luke had thus far limited his complaints about the writer to more private settings. 

“In any event,” Ben continued, turning back to Rey. “I thought it best to make my own name in the theatre, both literally and figuratively.”

“But you and Luke have worked together a lot, right?” Poe asked, scooping salsa out of the molcajete in the middle of the table and shoving the chip into his mouth.

“Well, yes, we’ve done...what, twelve productions together since I joined the RSC?”

“Righto, _Tantalus_ is lucky number 13, my boy! But you know, I had nothing whatsoever to do with his hiring. Snoke cast him in the rep company,” Luke added. “In point of fact, I am harder on him than on any of the other company members. Can’t be playing favorites, can I?”

“Favorites? Good god, Luke, you go out of your way to show everyone I’m _not_ your favorite. I workshopped _Tantalus_ for you and then you cast another actor. I only got Carlisle’s roles when he refused to act wearing a mask.” Ben rolled his eyes. “I mean, how the hell did _that_ not come up earlier?”

Leia broke in at this, sensing the growing air of tension between Luke and Ben. “You know, their first play together was an all-male, all-masked version of the _Oresteia_. Goddamn misogynists! I mean it’s not like there are enough roles for women as it is..." Leia took a drag of her cigarette. "I bet you wish you _had_ cast a few women in it, Luke - you sure could use one of them right now!”

Luke banged his margarita glass on the table while Ben glanced at Leia in confusion. She had the good grace to look embarrassed when she realized the... well, the _Bazine Situation_ was not yet common knowledge. Apparently Ben hadn’t been told. 

Poe, also sensing the tension, steered the conversation elsewhere. “What’s it like acting in a mask, Ben?”

Ben hesitated for a moment before answering. The one thing he detested more than actors talking about themselves? Actors talking about their _craft._

“Well... I suppose it seems counterintuitive, but being in a mask is actually very freeing. Because it takes away so many of the normal tools an actor uses, you can’t rely on your own bag of tricks. And then every movement, every word, takes on more meaning as a result...”

“The mask reveals more than it hides.” 

Everyone turned to Rey. “I’m sorry, I... I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said quietly, a blush coloring her cheeks.

Ben looked at her curiously. “No, it’s... I’ve just never heard it put quite that way. You’re exactly right. When I am wearing a mask, I feel most like myself. I feel a sense of wholeness, of physical, emotional, and intellectual centeredness. In the mask, I live in the moment, I don’t question anything. I feel a sense of calm and absolute self-acceptance.”

For a moment, he and Rey stared at one another, sharing a moment of silent understanding. 

To no one’s surprise, it was Leia who broke the spell. “Well, I don’t know from ‘self-acceptance’, but I will tell you he’s a helluva lot calmer now than he was as a kid. Let’s just say he had some ‘anger issues’.”

“Nothing better for an emo kid than to pack him off to his emotionally unavailable uncle for a spell!” Luke took another giant swig from his blue margarita, wiping the excess from his mouth with the back of his hand with a grin. “Although I certainly developed a taste for My Chemical Romance in the bargain!”

Poe leaned over to Rey, nudging her with his shoulder. “Didn’t you do a summer intensive with masks when we were at school?”

Finn threw Poe a glare, and wondered just how much tequila he’d had tonight. He knew better than to bring up that summer. Reaching across the table for Rey’s hand, Finn twisted his fingers around hers and squeezed gently. Rey pressed his fingers in return, and smiled. 

“Well, I don’t know if I’d call it an ‘intensive’, but I spent a few weeks back east studying neutral masks and character masks. I left before the clown session began. I guess we’ll never know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.”

Ben laughed, his eyes crinkling and his cheeks creasing into dimples. Luke and Leia both looked at him with undisguised astonishment, as if he’d suddenly grown a second head. 

Luke turned his attention back to Rey, his eyes sharpening in spite of the quantity of tequila and blue curacao coursing through his veins. “Where was this summer program, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh...a little school in Philadelphia. Pig Iron? I’m sure you’ve never heard of it.”

Luke’s eyes widened momentarily, and then he schooled his features. “The Pig Iron School? Yeah, I think I’ve heard of it. They have quite the reputation. There are not very many places here in the States where you can study LeCoq.”

“Ha! Lemme tell you, I have studied _plenty_ of Le Cock. I got a _master’s_ degree in Le Cock!” Kaydel let out a throaty guffaw at her own joke, and Leia nearly choked on her mouthful of margarita.

Luke ignored them and continued. “That’s a tough program to get into, even for the summer. I seem to remember that they only take MFA students. Did you go to the Conservatory, Rey?”

“I...um, I haven’t gone to grad school. Our...the head of the theatre department pulled a few strings to get me in. Dr. Holdo was...she did a lot for me.”

Finn, who knew there was a great deal more to the story than Rey would necessarily want to share with anyone, let alone relative strangers, interjected. “Doc Holdo loved Rey. All of our professors did. And who wouldn’t?” Finn gently grasped Rey’s face between both his hands, then squished it for comic effect. “Look at this face! Shame to hide it behind a mask!”

Ben pondered how very much he’d _like_ to see Rey in a mask. Or better still, a blindfold. _God, what the hell is wrong with me,_ he thought. 

Leia flagged down the waiter for another round of appetizers and some water. “We’re not going far, but I’m driving. Neither of these assholes have a driver’s license,” she snorted. “I’m a piss-poor choice for _in loco parentis_ but here we are.”

Luke guffawed. “Don’t listen to Leia. She loves to be in charge. You should see her ride herd on the Bathing Beauties!”

“The _what_ _?”_ Poe asked.

Finn spoke up. “It’s what everyone - and I mean _everyone_ \- started calling the nine women in the Chorus. Phasma - she’s the associate director - she and Luke wrote a modern prologue and a modern epilogue for the plays, and it’s a really clever framing device. Everything opens on a beach in modern day Greece, and the women are all in bikinis -”

“Well, not _all_ the women - trust me, my days in a bikini are behind me...”

“Yes, Leia, not all the women are in bikinis. _Assorted beach attire_.” Finn’s implied air quotes suggested there had been some discussion about what actually constituted beach attire. “It’s a pretty reductive nickname, if you ask me, but the women seem to have embraced the whole retro aspect and run with it.”

Finn licked a bit of salt off the rim of his glass and then took a swig of his margarita. “And the set designer is some mad genius Luke found in Greece. This Dionysis guy is insisting on real sand - _tons_ of it - and we are currently trying to figure out a mixture that will hold up well enough for the duration of the run without choking the actors on clouds of dust. He also wants a working shower and a pool onstage. He’s brilliant, sure, but he’s also batshit crazy.”

Luke laughed heartily. “Dionysis fits right in, trust me! We will _all_ be batshit crazy by the end of this year. Besides, I love that he never says ‘no’ to anything I ask for. Trap doors in the sand? Absolutely! A pool of water for Thetis to enter and exit? No problem! He says ‘yes’ to everything, and leaves it for poor Finn here to work out!” 

Luke reached around the table and clapped Finn enthusiastically on the shoulder. “You, my boy, are the real genius. I don’t know what we’d do without you!”

“Don’t call me a genius until I work out Thetis’ entrance and exit through the pool without drowning Bazine. The logistics of that are keeping me awake at night, I tell you what...”

Luke and Leia exchanged an uncomfortable glance. The Bazine Situation. Luke lifted an eyebrow at his twin, as if to say _drowning would be too good for Bazine_.

Poe slid his arm around Finn’s shoulder and gave him a squeeze. “You’ll get it worked out, babe. You always have a brilliant solution. But I don’t envy you guys. Hearing Finn’s stories about building wheels for the Trojan Horse? Makes me grateful we had no budget for _The_ _Kentucky Cycle_ \- no budget, no pressure. Just slap together some pallets, build a few boxes and put ‘em on casters, light the scrim and you’re done. That, and a trip to the thrift store for an armload of khakis and old white shirts to tea dye, and you’re good to go, am I right?” 

Poe looked sheepishly at Kaydel, who’d spent hours cutting collars off ratty dress shirts and picking Dockers tags off pants with a seam ripper.

“No worries, Poe, my man. Got nothing else to do while I’m nursing Jack.” Kay gestured grandly at her expansive cleavage, the ash from her cigarette threatening to fall into her drink. 

Ben’s attempt to disguise his look of disgust was less successful than he’d hoped. Kaydel and Leia both caught it and burst into laughter. “I’m headed home to pump and dump, not that it’s any of your business, big boy.”

“Oh, if Ben had _any_ idea what substances he was exposed to as a baby, I’d never hear the end of it, trust me! We didn’t know a goddamn thing 25 years ago -”

“Leia,” Ben sighed. “I’m 35, not 25.” 

It might have been Ben’s imagination, or the margaritas, but he could’ve sworn he saw Rey’s eyes widen at the mention of his age. _God_ , he groaned inwardly, _she’s probably a dozen years younger, I must seem like an old man to someone like her._

“Christ, how can I be that old?!” Leia sputtered. “I mean, how can _you_ be that old?”

“See, Kay?” Poe chimed in. “Thirty-five _is_ old.”

“You don’t really want to start that again, little man...”

Finn grinned broadly. “Oh, he’s not that little, Connix, trust me... And maybe you should go easy on the tequila, it always makes you surly.”

“Well, I suppose that is our cue to depart! I should hate to get caught up in a barroom brawl with Ms. Connix.” Luke, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet for the last few minutes, suddenly pushed away from the booth and gestured for a surprised Ben and Leia to let him out. “I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed the production, Poe, truly. It gave me some much-needed perspective. Well done, everyone! Finn, my boy, we will see you at rehearsal tomorrow.” 

As he scooched around the table, he paused to pull his scarf out from where it had become trapped beneath his leg and looked back at Rey. “And I very much hope to see you again soon, my dear.”

Rising, Luke hustled Ben and Leia toward the front of the restaurant. Leia flagged down the server to pick up the tab for the cast, and Ben turned to his uncle questioningly. _He’d hoped to..._ Ben paused, about to speak, and realizing he wasn’t sure precisely _what_ he’d hoped. 

Luke met his eyes. For a moment, Ben wondered if Luke felt as uncertain as he did. But the moment passed.

As Leia rejoined them, Luke put a tentative hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “I’ll explain it all on the way back...home." Luke paused, looking for the right word to describe their current place of residence in the Denver Center’s sterile corporate apartments, and failing. "Or rather...downtown.”

**\-----**

“Um, so...that was...weird, right?” Rose looked around at the handful of remaining members of the cast and crew as they drew in closer to fill the spots recently vacated by Luke, Leia and Ben, finally resting her gaze on Finn. “Are they always like that?” 

“Yes. Those three are...well, Rey has it right. It’s hard to imagine those three are related, isn’t it? Luke and Leia are twins, if you can believe it...”

Kaydel interrupted Finn with a snort. “Oh, _that_ I can believe. What I _can’t_ picture is how that tiny woman gave birth to that goddamn mountain of a man.”

She continued, a cigarette dangling precariously from her mouth. “I’d like to climb him like a fucking tree and make him beg for mercy. Or make him make _me_ beg for mercy. Did you see the size of those hands? Sweet baby Jesus...”

“Well, he certainly has a face for masks, doesn’t he? Looks like a sad horse in a 20’s variety show.”

“Seriously, Poe?” Kay tore the unlit cigarette from her lips and pointed it at Poe for emphasis. “He is absolutely gorgeous! Did you see those eyes? Or those lips? And that long dark hair?”

She replaced the cigarette and finally lit it. “Mmmm-hmmm...that man is _all_ man... And that is _not_ the tequila talking. Just to be clear, tequila makes me want to start bar fights. It’s gin that makes me believe that I’m thin and single.” 

“ _Speaking_ of thin and single...” Kaydel turned to Rey, tapping her cigarette dramatically on the ashtray. “What did _you_ think of him, sweet Rey? Don’t think I didn’t see you two eye-fucking each other...”

Rey’s cheeks colored. “What? No...I wasn’t - I mean, he wasn’t... No, that’s just crazy, Kay. And it hardly matters. I doubt I’ll ever see him again.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Rose leaned conspiratorially, if somewhat unsteadily, toward Rey. “What was that Luke said on his way out? About _seeing you soon_? Maybe he wants to fix you two kids up!”

“Alright, I think you’ve had enough tequila too, Ms. Tico.” Rey turned and looked at Finn questioningly. “I’m sure Luke was just trying to be...nice?” 

“Yeah, I’m not sure what any of that was about. Luke is...well, he’s one of a kind. But he’s never struck me as the sort of man who’s just _nice_. The wheels are always turning.”

Finn put an arm around Rey and squeezed. “Whatever it was, I’m sure Luke will have forgotten all about it by tomorrow. Did you see the man put away those blue margaritas? Drinking at altitude, man...never a good idea.” 

Sighing, Finn rose from the table and gave their server a wave. “And I have a 10 am production meeting tomorrow, so I’d better bounce, too. Peanut, can Poe and I give you a ride?”

“Oh, no, thanks! I’ve -”

“- _got my bike._ ” Finn, Poe, Kaydel and Rose responded together, and erupted in laughter as Rey tried and failed to look offended, the dimples in her cheeks deepening as she slung her messenger bag across her shoulder.

“We’d make a helluva Chorus, y’all, just sayin’...” Kaydel smirked as she got up from the table. “But dear god, you do not want to see me in a bikini right now. Without two layers of spandex on this whole...situation” - she indicated the area from her neck to her knees with a wave of her cigarette - "I look just like Jabba the Hutt.”

Rose threw an arm around her and kissed her cheek loudly. “Mama, you are gorgeous, and that is not the tequila talking!”

Kay beamed down at her and kissed her forehead in return. “When did you switch to gin, Rosie?!”

The server approached and spoke quietly to Poe, who broke into a wide grin. “Well, how’d you like that? Leia picked up the check on the way out...That is one classy dame. Either that, or she’s got a thing for my man here.”

Finn grinned as well. “What can I say, I’ve got her wrapped around my finger. I’ll see you all next Saturday, alright? Closing night party at Kay’s still a go?”

“Actually,” Rey chimed in. “Kay and I talked about that. I was sort of hoping we could do it at my place?”

Poe’s eyes widened as he glanced at Rey. “Really? Dolface, that's great!”

Rey laughed. “Finn and I have put a lot of work into Maz’s - I mean, _my_ house. I kind of want to show it off.”

Finn placed a muscular arm around her waist and squeezed excitedly. “I can’t wait. It’s such a cool old house, I want everyone to see what you’ve done with it.”

Kaydel crushed the last of her cigarette in the ashtray. “I agreed to let her host instead, but only on the condition that Rey lets me bring all the food. And it’s BYOB, bitches. Unless you care to try your luck with my Hallucinogenic Sangria.”

“No way, Kay. I think we all remember the opening night party at the theatre. By which I mean _no one_ remembers the opening party at the theatre...” Rose shuddered at the non-memory. “I’m still having sangria flashbacks.”

“Y’all. Are. Pussies.” Kay led the way out of the restaurant toward the parking lot, giggling demonically like she was the Pied Piper of Blackouts. “I’m outta here, I got a hot date with a breast pump and a vibrator. Possibly at the same time.”

“On that note,” Poe sighed. “Drive safely, and get some rest this week. I need you all ready to kick ass on Thursday.” 

He turned to Rey, bussed her on the cheek, and whispered, “Beautiful work again tonight, Rey. I hate to see this show end, but I have something in the works I want to talk to you about. Brunch tomorrow, my treat?”

“Even if I weren’t intrigued - or bound by a blood oath - you know I never turn down the offer of food, Dameron. See ya at Snooze at 10:30? I’ll call ahead.”

“It’s a date, Dollface.” Poe lowered his voice again, for dramatic effect. “And don’t forget about that blood oath...” 

Rey and Finn’s eyes met for a final eyeroll, and Rey gave them both a last long hug goodbye before she hopped on her mountain bike. “Hang in there, Finn, and try not to drown any actors.”

“I promise nothing,” Finn deadpanned.

Finn and Poe waved as Rey set off, her bike light blinking into the night, and then climbed into their Subaru.

Finn started up the car, and then glanced over at Poe before backing out. “Do you think she has any idea how much we love her?”

“Not a clue, Finn. Not a single clue.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be clear, I know very little about the inner workings of the Denver Center Theatre Company, and nothing at all about how the Royal Shakespeare Company operates. But I can make blue margaritas and hallucinogenic sangria.
> 
> True story - Greg Hicks, one of the RSC actors, workshopped Tantalus, and then got cast only after the first guy decided he didn't want to do the show wearing a mask and bailed. Several of the quotes about working in a mask are his.
> 
> Hit me up in the comments with queries and quibbles.


	3. Chapter Three

**_“You don’t have to wait to be confident. Just do it and eventually the confidence will follow.”_ **

_-Carrie Fisher_

“So, tell me, Mr. Dameron,” Rey murmured around a mouthful of sweet potato pancakes. “Why are you invoking the terms of the blood oath before we’ve even closed _Kentucky Cycle_? I am equally terrified and aroused.”

Poe snort-laughed, and then pinched the bridge of his nose as the sriracha in his Bangkok Bloody burned it slightly. They were huddled in the corner of the busy restaurant, at a two-top which barely accommodated the quantity of food they’d ordered. Poe could never decide between the shrimp and grits and the corned beef hash. He usually ordered one of each, with the lofty goal of taking the leftovers home for later. Somehow, between him and Rey, there was never anything left to box up. 

“Well...” Poe snuck a piece of chicken sausage from Rey’s plate. “You know the folks at the Civic are really over the moon with how well the show has done?”

Rey nodded and sipped her mimosa. She had to work this afternoon, and really shouldn’t have been drinking at all. But she’d earned it. One drink, she figured, and she could damn well snag a catnap before heading off to Do-It-Ur-Self Plumbing & Heating for her afternoon shift. 

“It’s been years since they’ve had a resident theatre company. HorseChart was there for a bit, and El Centro Su Teatro still does a show or two a year. But the producers are thinking about setting up something more regular, trying to build up a subscriber base. Hunger Artists has been homeless since they closed the Theatre at Jack’s, and I guess they figure the company has been around for long enough in one form or another that we’re a safe bet.”

“And they’re not asking Su Teatro to move in permanently?” Rey’s left eyebrow quirked in surprise. “Seems like they should have the right of first refusal, it’s kind of their neighborhood.” 

Rey had spent enough time as a white kid living in a neighborhood made up mostly of people of color to know that the situation was complicated. And she could count on one hand the number of Black and Latinx theatre companies in town. “Are you sure you want to be a party to this kind of theatrical gentrification, Poe? I mean, what will your _abuela_ say?”

“Yeah, don’t think _that_ hasn’t crossed my mind. I suspect it’s part of the reason they asked me in the first place. Gives them plausible deniability, with some brown kids like me and Rose onboard. But I talked to the folks at Su Teatro, and they have something in the works on the North Side. I told Tanya to keep me posted, I don’t want to step on any toes. And at any rate, this is just a trial run to see if Hunger Artists is a good fit.”

Rey’s shoulders relaxed. But only slightly. “Alright, so what’s this got to do with the oath?”

Poe took another swig of his bloody mary. “Well, Kay and I have been talking about our plans for the...uh, the ‘next big thing’. Turns out she’s always wanted to play Merteuil in _Les Liaisons Dangereuses_ , and I’ve always wanted to direct it. The folks at the Civic have offered me a decent chunk of change to do it, and asked me if we can mount it in the spring, since they’re planning some minor renovations.”

“Minor?” Rey deadpanned. The basement had fairly significant fire damage, the result of a smudging gone awry. The dressing rooms were tiny. The carpeting in the office was mildewed from a poorly patched leak in the roof...

“Renovations to the public spaces. You know - new floors in the lobby, get the bathrooms up to ADA code, that kind of thing. They want to do a sort of gala reopening thing in April.”

“Okay. Still not seeing how I fit in? Unless you told them I’d do the bathroom reno.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry! Finn’s always on my case about burying the lede. I want you to play Tourvel.”

Rey sat for a moment in stunned silence. “Wow. The Juliet Stevenson role?”

“God, you’re a nerd, Sutton. What is _with_ you and Alan Rickman?” Poe forked a large bite of grits into his mouth before continuing. “The Michelle Pfeiffer role, yes.”

“Wow.” 

“We’ll be casting in January and starting rehearsals in late February. Everyone will be paid, and we’ve got a decent production budget. Only you and Kay will be precast, and I’ll want you both to be involved in the audition process from the beginning. Chemistry is everything for this one.”

“Wow.”

“So that’s a yes, I presume?” Poe put his fork down and folded his hands under his chin, regarding Rey seriously. “I know we joke about the blood oath and all, but I want you to know that I think you’re perfect for this role.”

“But I always feel like you think you’re obligated to cast me, Poe, and I -“

“Furthermore,” Poe put up a hand to interrupt her. “Oath or no, I would never ask you to do it if I didn’t think the role would be perfect for you, too. This is the kind of character arc I know you can really make work, Rey. Merteuil is the showier role, for sure, but Tourvel is the heart of the play. It all depends on your emotional journey.” Poe raised his glass. “That, and Kay’s cleavage.”

Rey let out a shaky laugh, raised her mimosa, and clinked it with Poe’s cocktail. “Then it’s a yes.”

Their toast was interrupted by Rey’s phone, playing “September” by Earth, Wind & Fire. “That’s weird. Why is Finn calling _me_? And why is he calling me in the middle of the day?”

\-----

_in the Past_

_Rey doesn’t belong._

_She’s suspected this for as long as she can remember. She doesn’t belong to a family, not one of her own at any rate. Just a series of progressively more miserable and frankly dangerous foster homes, until her luck inexplicably turns and she finds a real home with Maz._

_She definitely doesn’t belong in school, where she is alternately pitied and patronized for her poverty, or treated with open hostility for her inability to fit in. So Rey hovers uncertainly at the edges, spending her time at school mostly alone, until she turns fifteen and discovers acting._

_She still doesn’t have much in common with the melodramatic and perpetually horny try-hards that make up her high school drama department, but they are unfailingly nice to Rey and try to include her, at least to the extent she allows._

_She feels comfortable onstage, being someone else, with none of the stage fright that others seem to experience._

_Offstage, she always feels a little awkward, a beat behind somehow. She misses all the inside jokes._

_She discovers that she is terrified only during curtain call, when she has to be herself again._

_\-----_

_College has always seemed like a distant dream for Rey, until she arrives at her fifth and final foster home. Life with Maz is a far cry from her previous placements; the tiny woman is tireless and no-nonsense, and she and Rey adore each other on sight. Maz seems to understand Rey in a way that no one else does._

_Maz is a fixture in the Five Points neighborhood; she seems to know everyone, and tells stories of the great jazz musicians she’d seen perform at the Rossonian Hotel when she was a girl. She’s opened her small home on Glenarm Place to foster countless teens over the years, but decides that Rey will be her last. Her only child._

_Maz fights to keep Rey with her even after she ages out of the system, and fights to get her into college._

_CU isn’t far very away, and it isn’t very expensive, and it isn’t very prestigious, but to Rey it is the opportunity of a lifetime. She looks at college as a chance to reinvent herself, to pretend that she belongs after all. She packs up her few precious belongings and heads off to Boulder to become someone new._

_\-----_

_Matt is nice, and tall, and talented, with a chiseled face and body and an open and easygoing way._

_As the only two freshmen cast in the first play of the season - in small roles with lots of shared downtime during rehearsals - Rey and Matt spend hours together every night. A few breathless, sloppy kisses in the dark lobby probably have as much to do with boredom as mutual attraction, but Rey doesn’t hesitate when Matt suggests he drop by her dorm room on Sunday while her roommate is back home for the weekend._

_Rey is honestly relieved to be rid of her virginity, and Matt seems as good as any other candidate, seeing as he is the first boy to ever ask._

_The sex is...well, what it lacks in enjoyment it makes up in brevity._

_She hasn’t thought much about it, and is therefore surprised by Matt’s reaction to the blood on her sheets. Of course, she’s told him she is a virgin and is taking birth control pills for her intermittent but painful cycles. Of course, he hasn’t believed her._

_Rey finds his hasty exit almost as funny as it is unsurprising. Everyone leaves. She already knows this._

_Within a week, Matt is dating another girl in their Beginning Acting class. Jenny is voluptuous and effortlessly cool, with high cheekbones, icy blue eyes and shiny straight blonde hair which she carelessly knots on top of her head._

_Matt had definitely not been the man of Rey’s dreams, but the speed with which he moves on is...tough to see._

_Rey’s uncharacteristic lack of foresight is costly in the long run - Matt and Jenny remind her three times a week that she isn’t worth a second glance, or a second date, or even a second fuck. Then she gets to see them three times a week in Intermediate Acting that spring. And, when they are all accepted into the BFA program as sophomores, she gets to spend several hours - every day - with the happy couple._

_Rey doesn’t begrudge them their happiness, really. Matt and Jenny are clearly meant for one another, and Rey had never felt much for Matt beyond a fleeting sexual attraction. But they are a daily reminder that she doesn’t belong._

_One by one, the others in her BFA class pair off in various, mostly platonic combinations. Rey once again finds herself alone, hovering on the edges. It’s like a bizarre game of musical chairs where Rey is the only one who can’t seem to hear the music._

_\-----_

_In her sophomore year, Rey finds a kind of awkward, teetering third wheel companionship with Finn, an affable and charming boy on the Tech Theatre track, and his charismatic boyfriend Poe. They carve out what space they can for Rey in the lives that they’ve wrapped so tightly around each other, but Rey is always careful not to make too many demands on their time and attention._

_Finn and Poe belong to one another, not to Rey._

_And she is determined not to repeat the mistake she’d made with Matt, so she rebuffs other boys and girls in their occasional, lackluster attempts to hit on her. No one tries very hard._

_Better to remain alone by choice than to give someone - however random - the chance to leave her. Alone._

_So Rey throws herself into school, devouring plays and books on acting, history, languages. She becomes close to the theatre department chair, a poised but incredibly funny woman who does a 60-second “Le Cid” that has Rey snorting with laughter. Thanks to a particularly fascinating professor in her freshman Greek Mythology lecture, she somehow finds herself minoring in Classics. Poe teases her mercilessly about this. “For fuck’s sake, Sutton, how did you find something even more esoteric than acting?”_

_For the first time, Rey can see a path forward. Several paths, really. Grad school, acting professionally, perhaps teaching, maybe even writing._

_Still, when Dr. Holdo and Dr. Ackbar conspire to get her into the summer intensive at Pig Iron, Rey initially refuses. It would mean leaving home - and leaving Maz - even if it’s only for three weeks. But it is an incredible opportunity, and they’ve moved heaven and earth to get her accepted._

_Rey fights the gnawing apprehension in her belly, an unshakable feeling that she’d miss something if she left. What if her mother - her “real” mother, gone now for fourteen years - finally comes back and can’t find her?_

_But Maz and Holdo and Ackbar refuse to take no for an answer and she is packed off for her first time on a plane. Maybe Rey will be able to hear the music and grab hold of a chair this time._

_\-----_

_When the news comes in mid-July that Maz has suffered a what the doctors call a massive myocardial infarction, and died alone in their little house on the edge of downtown, Rey is reminded once more that she doesn’t belong._

_She leaves Philadelphia early, returning to an empty house and a stack of bills and a feeling of abandonment so yawning and so terrifying that Rey thinks she might literally collapse under its weight._

_Maz has left her the house, along with a first and second mortgage. Her adoptive mother, clearly planning to live for several decades more, has taken out the second to cover those college expenses that Rey’s paltry scholarship had not. The interest rate is crippling, naturally._

_Rey cannot face the idea of selling the house that Maz worked so hard to keep, nor can she face giving up on the dream of college that Maz worked so hard to help her achieve._

_Rey returns to Boulder in the fall, commuting from Denver on the bus and picking up jobs at the college radio station and a restaurant on the Pearl Street Mall, hoping to maintain her grades well enough to keep her scholarship and her place in the BFA program while staying a step ahead of her creditors._

_As a BFA candidate, she is required to audition for the season and take whatever role is offered. This means she mostly sleeps on the bus rides up Highway 36 and back, sometimes stealing an additional hour backstage before rehearsals for a comedy in which she is cast as the love interest, and in which she is both terrible and deeply unfunny._

_Perhaps it is the stress, perhaps the lack of sleep and her increasingly erratic diet, but both Rey’s grades and her performances slip enough to warrant a visit to the department chair’s office. She knows that she is really awful in the play, and in her acting classes, unable to find the right rhythm, unable to connect; she can feel herself holding back emotionally, afraid that if she allows her feelings to flow through her as they always have, the flood gates would open and everything -_ everything _\- would come pouring out._

_Dr. Holdo is less than impressed with her vague explanations. She’s told no one at school - not even Poe and Finn - about Maz’s death or her financial situation, and Rey cannot bear to reveal the extent of the problem. Saying it aloud would make it real._

_Rey is faced with an impossible choice - sell Maz’s beloved but increasingly rundown house, on which she owes more than it’s worth, and then go through the motions her senior year, pretending that the MFA programs everyone else is working so hard to get into are even a possibility for her. Or cut and run back to Denver, a year shy of graduation, to eke out whatever life she could._

_Rey opts for the latter._

_Acting was a pipe dream anyway. No one really makes a living at it, not even the truly talented. Rey has proven with this last play, fairly definitively, that she is_ not _that talented._

_And she isn’t sure she could survive another year this way, working 20 hours a day, living on ramen and no sleep, watching her classmates eagerly preparing for grad school auditions while she just...waits for the music to stop? The thought makes her guts twist._

_So, with no explanation, Rey drops out - Maz would have called it an Irish Goodbye - and goes radio silent for the better part of a year._

_\-----_

_Finn and Poe eventually grow tired of being left on read and sent to voicemail, and just show up on the doorstep of her run-down little Victorian demanding to know “what the_ actual _fuck has happened”._

_For the first time, Rey tells someone else the truth. She just doesn’t have the energy left to lie convincingly anymore._

_Poe and Finn sit together on the ancient, lumpy sofa in Rey’s front room while she recounts her story, or at least what she remembers._

_The dilapidated trailer in the Aurora mobile home park where she’d been found - a starving and filthy five year old, stubbornly insisting that her mother would be_ right back _\- by the manager who’d come to collect overdue rent._

_The foster homes where she’d been alternately ignored and abused, but where she’d never stopped trying to be very, very good so that they would love her enough to keep her._

_Finding a real home with Maz, only to lose her. The guilt she bears knowing that if she hadn’t left for Philadelphia - if she hadn’t been so selfish - she would have been here and she would have seen Maz get sick and she would have kept her alive and she wouldn’t be alone again._

_Leaving school, shamefaced, without her degree, so she could try and keep Maz’s home -_ her home _\- by scraping together the first and second mortgage payments every month._

_And finally, her decision to quit acting. She has been hovering constantly at or near the bottom of the hierarchy of needs, after all, somewhere between a roof over her head and food in her belly. The idea of doing a show, even if she could manage it between three separate jobs, feels so deeply selfish that she can’t even conceive of it._

_Rey recounts all of this calmly and with dry eyes. She hasn’t cried since the day she buried Maz. She isn’t sure she’ll ever cry again._

_She doesn’t linger on the details, and rushes through several aspects of the story in a manner that suggests to Finn and Poe a level of mental and physical pain she hasn’t yet acknowledged to herself._

_Finn and Poe do cry, however - not out of pity, but out of shame that they’ve been so wrapped up in their own happiness that they haven't seen Rey’s pain._

_“No, that’s ridiculous. How could you have known? Poe, you were up to your eyeballs trying to wrap up your thesis. And Finn, you were practically sleeping in the scene shop most of last year.”_

_“But Peanut, why didn’t you come to us? Or Doc Holdo? We could have helped.”_

_“I’m... well, I’m not good at asking for help. I’ve never had to, really. It’s just easier to do things myself, then no one else is to blame when it goes wrong. When they let me down, or when they leave me.”_

_Poe and Finn exchange a glance. “Rey, Peanut. We are not going to let you down, and we are not going to leave you.”_

_Poe nods his agreement. “We are here, and we love you.”_

_So Rey swears them to secrecy, and Finn and Poe agree, with a hug and a pinky swear._

_On three conditions:_

_“You have to let us cook you dinner at least once a week.”_

_“You have to let me help fix up the house.”_

_“And you have to take any role I offer. Any role. No questions asked.”_

\-----

“Well, I just had the most interesting chat with Wedge Antilles!”

Phasma looked up from the director’s table, where she’d been finalizing her notes for the 10 am production meeting, as Luke swept into the theatre, looping his scarf around his neck with a flourish. She groaned. Luke was far too chipper at this hour of the morning.

“What, pray tell, is a Wedge Antilles?” 

Luke’s grin widened as he plopped down in the seat next to Phasma. “Wedge Antilles is a dear old friend, and the founder of the Pig Iron School in Philadelphia. I’ve just had the most extraordinary conversation with him. And he may have solved our little casting challenge, Gwendolyn, my love.”

Phasma elected to ignore the use of her first name - only her beloved gran was allowed to call her Gwendolyn - in the interest of keeping Luke on target. “I almost hate to ask. What is a Pig Iron?”

“It turns out we have the answer to our problems right in front of us. Finn is making a call right now, but I may have found you a new Bathing Beauty. Touch wood!” Luke rapped a knuckle against his forehead for emphasis.

_Touch wood, indeed_ , Phasma groaned. It had been harder than she’d anticipated coming up with a suitable - or even sentient - replacement for Jessika in the Chorus. Lots of good candidates, but none were available with so little notice. As it was, she feared she would have to do some Casting Tetris and ask one or more of the other ensemble members to understudy Jessika’s new roles as Second Woman. That thought made Phasma groan again, more loudly.

“So Finn knows someone? Or Wedge knows someone. Wedge has a pig with mask experience? Trust me, I can make a pig work if I must, they’re really quite intelligent...”

“No need, my dear,” Luke chortled. “Let me explain. We met a lovely young woman last night, a friend of Finn’s, and it seems she trained at the Pig Iron School, albeit briefly. So I took a chance and called Wedge... it’s been a few years but I thought he might remember her. Evidently she made quite the impression on my friend, and he went on for some fifteen minutes about how naturally she took to mask work.”

Luke removed his glasses and set about cleaning them on his scarf. _Little good that will do,_ Phasma mused. _That scarf is far dirtier than his spectacles..._

“It seems she had to leave the program early, some family emergency. Wedge couldn’t recall the details. He did encourage me to get in touch with Amilyn Holdo at the University of Colorado, however. She’s the chair of the theatre department, and lobbied Wedge relentlessly to allow this young woman into his program as an undergrad.”

_Oh, perfect,_ Phasma brooded. _No doubt this “lovely young woman” had been sleeping with her college professor. No one “lobbies” for their students like that without some sort of quid pro quo..._

“I’ve instructed Finn to do whatever he can to get this... ah, Rey Sutton is her name - beautiful girl - get her in to read for us as soon as possible. Today, if we can manage it. No time to waste, Gwendolyn, my love!”

_No shit, no time_... Still, Phasma had her reservations. “Luke, are you quite sure - “ 

Luke rose suddenly, grabbing his notepad from the table, and headed for the lobby. “I am off to call this Holdo person in Boulder while we await word from Finn. I leave it to you to manage the details.” 

He stopped at the door and turned back, sparing one last glance over the top of his glasses. “And you are welcome, Gwendolyn!”

Phasma’s eye roll was nearly audible. As far as she was concerned, if this “young woman” could fill a bikini and learn her blocking, that would more than suffice. They were simply out of time.


	4. Chapter Four

**_“Do not let what you think they think of you make you stop and question everything you are.”_ **

_-Carrie Fisher_

“Hey, Finn. What’s up?” 

Rey rose from the table - with a warning gesture to Poe not to snake any additional sausages from her plate - and stepped outside the restaurant. Even if years of waiting tables hadn’t cemented her dislike of people talking on their cell phones in restaurants, the din inside Snooze made it impossible to hear. The crowd outside waiting for tables wasn’t much quieter, so she moved up Larimer Street a few paces.

“Peanut, I am glad I caught you before you went to work.” Finn seemed uncharacteristically keyed up. Rey’s brow furrowed. He was usually cool as a cucumber, so things at the theatre must be going sideways again.

“I’m not heading in until 2 today, figured I could get some laundry and a catnap in. What do you need?” 

“Well, I wonder if you can come by the Tramway Building, say around noon?”

“The Tramway... Finn, it’s already 11:30. What’s going on?”

“I... well... I don’t want you to get your hopes up or anything, and this might be absolutely nothing, but...”

Rey sighed. “Out with it, Finn.”

“Luke wants you to read for _Tantalus_.” The words came out in a rush, and Rey could hear the agitation in Finn’s voice.

“What?”

“Look, I can explain it when you get here, can you just... I don’t know, run home and grab a résumé and headshot, put on something you can move in, and get over here as soon as you can? I don’t want to give Luke the chance to reconsider, and -”

“Finn, wait. You’re talking so fast, and I... did you say Luke wants me to audition?”

“Yes, that’s -" Rey could hear voices in the background, as though someone was trying to get Finn’s attention. “Yes, Peanut, can you just get over here as soon as you can, and I’ll fill you in? I gotta run -"

The line went dead, and Rey stared in disbelief at her phone. She stumbled back into the restaurant, arriving at their table just in time to see Poe sneaking a sausage from her plate. She was surprised to find she didn’t care. Her appetite was long gone.

Poe looked up at her guiltily, and then dropped his forkful of breakfast meat when he saw the look on Rey’s face.

“Oh my god, what is it? Did something happen at the theatre? Why is Finn calling you and not me? Did he get fired? What -"

Rey held up her hand as she sat and said, more calmly than she felt. “Finn is fine. Everything is fine. I have to go. I have to go and audition for Luke Skywalker now.” 

Rey paused. “No. First I have to go and throw up. And then I have to go and audition for Luke Skywalker.”

Poe’s eyes and mouth widened comically. _That’s weird_ , Rey mused, _he looks just like the surprised face emoji_...

“Rey, are you serious? What is -"

“Finn said he’d fill me in when I got there, in -” she checked the time on her phone “- exactly twenty three minutes, and I’ve got to get home and get ready and get to the DCPA and... fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_. I don’t know if I can do this, Poe.”

Poe waved to their server with one hand and stroked her forearm soothingly with the other. “Look, we’ll just throw your bike in the back of the Subie and I’ll run you back to your place to get ready. I can drop you off at the -" he broke off and looked at her questioningly.

“The Tramway Building...”

“The Tramway Building.” Poe parroted back, grabbing the check off the table as soon as the server dropped it. He glanced at the folder, grabbed some twenties from his wallet and shoved them inside. “Good. Perfect. No time to get change. Let’s hit the bricks, Dollface.”

Poe stood. Rey remained seated, staring ahead, her pupils like pinpricks. Poe sat back down quickly and reached across the table for her hands. They were shaking.

“Poe, I haven’t auditioned in... Jesus, it’s been more than three years. What if they ask for monologues or 16 bars, or...”

“Rey -”

“I don’t think I even remember a classical monologue -”

“Rey!” Poe tightened his grip on her hands. “Look at me." Rey's eyes darted to his. "It’s going to be fine. What did Finn tell you to bring?”

“A headshot and résumé. And dance togs, I guess?”

“Alright, he would’ve told you if you needed two contrasting monologues or anything else. Probably a cold reading. Which I have seen you do brilliantly, literally dozens of times.” 

Poe stood again, maintaining his firm grip on Rey’s hands. “So what the fuck are we doing here, we’ve got to get you to the thea-tuh, Miss Caswell!”

Rey, who’d apparently forgotten to breathe, let out a gasping laugh at the _All About Eve_ reference. “Lead the way, Addison!”

\-----

“Leia, my dear, why don’t you and Rey take a few minutes to read through the scene out in the hallway? Phasma and I have just a few things to hammer out, and then we can get this up on its feet and see what we’ve got!” 

Luke was downright jovial. The production meeting had gone better than he’d expected, thanks in no small part to Finn’s ability to create a 10-foot tall set piece based on nothing more than a trinket Dionysis had picked up from a market stall in Athens. And his chat with the charming Dr. Holdo had revealed some fascinating tidbits about the lovely Rey. He was very much looking forward to her reading.

Phasma, for her part, was breathing a little easier than she had been an hour ago. Luke’s “lovely young woman” was indeed very attractive and, by happy chance, of a similar build to both Jessika and Bazine, perhaps a little taller. Difficult to know for certain - everyone looked short to Phasma. Still, based on the sliver of skin showing between her cropped t-shirt and her leggings, Ms. Sutton was as lithe as she was lovely. As far as Phasma was concerned, if she could string two words together, she had the job.

Luke leaned conspiratorially toward Phasma, in spite of the fact that they were the only two people currently inhabiting the rehearsal room, and whispered dramatically, “Phasma, my love, I have spent the last half hour on the telephone listening to the most glowing reports of our young Rey. It seems she was one of Amilyn’s most promising students, an autodidact with a photographic memory and a seemingly boundless curiosity. Amilyn called her…. let me see if I have this right,” Luke flipped open his notebook, “the most naturally gifted and instinctive actor she’s ever had the pleasure to direct, and said she has an almost eerie emotional depth. In short, a rave!” Luke snapped his notebook shut for emphasis.

_Good gods_. Phasma was now absolutely certain that Rey had slept with her professor. _Eerie emotional depth, indeed_... “It sounds as though she will be more than capable of taking over for Jess.”

“Yes, yes, I am sure she’ll be marvelous. She was _very_ good in the play last night, at any rate. It’s rather too bad she wasn’t able to complete her training in Boulder...”

Phasma perked up at this. “Didn’t she leave that school in Philadelphia before the conclusion of the program?”

“Oh, yes, I suppose she did, now that you mention it. I’m sure there’s an explanation.”

“Really, Luke? It sounds very much like she’s a flake with zero follow-through. Bazine 2.0, if you will.”

“I will not, thank you! Having spent no more than an hour in her company, I can wholeheartedly assure you that she is _nothing_ like Bazine Netal...”

Luke was prevented from further comment by the appearance of Leia and Rey at the door. Luke waved them in and sat forward in his chair, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

“Let’s see what you’ve got for us then, ladies. Whenever you are ready, Rey.”

\-----

Finn and Poe sat on a concrete bench outside of the Tramway Building. Poe tilted his head back and closed his eyes against the glare of the August sun as Finn ate the last of his wrap and chased it with a green juice. 

Poe squinted one eye open. “Sorry I didn’t bring you anything from Snooze, babe. We didn’t even have time to get our leftovers boxed up, we just raced over here.” Poe closed both eyes again. “And I don’t mind telling you, I have never seen Rey that freaked out. She’s usually so goddamn stoic. I thought she was going to have a full-on panic attack.”

“I owe you one.” Finn stood and put his garbage in the can, then arched his back until it popped. “If this works out, I will be paraded around the lobby on Phasma’s shoulders. And she can’t _stand_ me.”

Poe laughed. “Probably because you never tell Luke ‘no’ and she has to play Bad Cop.”

The front door opened, accompanied by what Poe could only describe as a squeal of glee.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod! I booked it! I’m in _Tantalus_!” Rey hopped up and over the concrete bench and then flung herself into Poe and Finn’s arms, nearly tackling the two men to the ground.

“Peanut, we are so proud of you!”

“I knew you’d be great, Rey! Did you kill the cold reading?”

Rey flopped down onto the bench and pulled her water bottle out of her messenger bag. “Leia read with me, she was amazing! We read a long scene between Andromache and Hermione, and... It’s hard to describe, I could almost _sense_ what she wanted from me, what she wanted me to do next in the scene. Everything just...” she paused just long enough to take a swallow, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she continued. “It just flowed between us. Now that I think about it, I have no idea what the scene was even about! Honestly, I’ve never really felt anything like it.”

“I’m sure you were brilliant, Dollface.” Poe shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts, and looked down at his loafers. “So, when do you start rehearsals?”

“Well, today, I guess. Fuck, Plutt is going to be furious when I call off from work. This afternoon, Leia and the AD - that really tall, grumpy woman? - as soon as I have all the paperwork signed they’re gonna run me through the blocking for the Chorus, and hopefully I'll be far enough along that I can rehearse with the rest of them on Tuesday.”

Rey paused to stow her bottle away. “But I told them that I have to finish out the run of _Kentucky Cycle_ next weekend. Not negotiable.”

“Really, Dollface?” Poe looked up, breaking into a grin. “I mean, this is a once in a lifetime chance and -”

Rey stood up and put her hand on his arm. “Jesus, Poe, I would never leave you high and dry with three more performances. Or ever, for that matter. After everything you’ve done for me?” Rey paused. “And weirdly, the assistant director’s attitude toward me completely changed after I said I wouldn’t bail on you a week shy of closing.”

Finn barked out a laugh. “Phasma has been burned several times already on this show, Rey. I’m sure she considers your display of loyalty a refreshing change of pace. Let’s get you up to the business office to fill out paperwork and get you squared away. You’ve got a crazy busy week ahead of you.”

Poe wrapped his arms around her and gave a final squeeze. “Break a leg, Dollface. I’m gonna get outta your hair - yours too, babe.” He and Finn kissed, and Poe adjusted the collar of Finn’s shirt. “Shoot me a text when rehearsal wraps up and I’ll come back for both of you.”

\-----

“Finn, there you are. I wonder if you have a moment?”

Ben’s voice rang down the concrete hallway outside the office. Finn turned in surprise. By his estimate, Ben had spoken perhaps two dozen words to him in the last five months. He’d always been professional, polite and to the point, but there just hadn't been a need to interact much.

“Sure, Ben, how can I help?”

Ben slung his bag off his shoulder and dropped it on the sofa in the waiting area, then brushed his fingers through his shoulder length black hair, an uncharacteristically distracted gesture that instantly reminded Finn of Luke Skywalker. 

“I hope you won’t think this is untoward of me, but I... I wonder if you might share your friend Rey’s phone number with me? Or, I don’t know, perhaps you might pass mine along to her? I... I just, I rather enjoyed chatting with her last night, and I thought -"

“Ben, that’s -"

“I’m sorry, it’s probably not at all appropriate, and I doubt she would want to have anything to do with a boring old fuck like me,” Ben continued in a rush, running a hand through his hair once again. “I just...you see, it’s been rather, uh...rather lonely here the past five months, I don’t know anyone outside of the cast, the only other actor anywhere near my age is Hux, and god help me but sometimes I can’t stand him, I don’t have any friends here, not that I really have any in London, but I...” 

His shoulders sagged as he finally took a breath, and he shook his head. “It’s stupid. Forget I said anything.”

Ben turned to retrieve his bag from the sofa. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of dark hair and wide eyes. Rey was standing just outside the business office. He straightened up, a stricken look on his face, and ran his hand through his now thoroughly disheveled hair for a third time. 

_A nervous tic_ , Finn realized. “Sorry Ben, I was trying to tell you, you can just ask Rey here for her number yourself. She’s been cast to replace Jessika Pava in the Chorus.”

“Oh...oh! That’s - congratulations, Rey. I -” Ben broke off, looking visibly distressed for a moment. He took in Finn’s confused expression and continued in a slightly more certain tone. “That’s... what I mean to say is... welcome aboard, Rey.” His mouth twisted and he looked like there was a great deal more he wanted to say.

“I... uh, I should really get moving, I’ve got a mask fitting and I... yes, well, I’m sure I’ll see you both soon.” 

Ben looked apologetically at Finn and Rey before heading off to the scene shop at - if not a dead run, certainly a brisk lope.

Finn crossed the waiting area to where Rey stood, rooted in place, her gaze following Ben’s departing figure. “How much of that did you hear, Peanut?”

“He’s alone.”

“Well, I suppose he _is_ lonely, he doesn’t know anyone here in Denver other than his uncle and his mother. I don’t know the details, but I get the feeling that’s a complicated situation. Families are...” Finn paused and rubbed the back of neck with his hand. “Families are hard sometimes.”

Rey looked into Finn’s eyes and smiled ruefully. Finn and Poe both had loud, messy, complicated, loving relationships with their respective families.

But she shook her head slowly. “Not _lonely_ . He’s _alone_.”

“I don’t know about that, Rey... I mean, he’s here at the theatre 50 hours a week, and I know he avoids socializing with the cast outside of rehearsal, but they all live together over at Brooks Towers. He’s kind of around people 24/7.”

Rey tilted her head and looked at Finn, her eyebrow quirking up.

“Yeah, okay, Peanut. I’m a dumbass. You of all people know what it’s like to be alone in a crowd...” 

Finn swiftly changed the subject. “Did you get everything taken care of?” He lifted his arms slightly over his head and shimmied his hips, affecting a White Man Overbite. “Signed, sealed, delivered?”

Rey stifled a laugh. “I need to talk to you about that, actually. They’re offering me an Equity contract, and I don’t know what to do. You know, Poe calls it the 'Scarlet E'. I just... I don’t want to shoot myself in the foot if I’m not going to be able book regular Equity gigs here in Denver. Not to mention the blood oath -”

“Alright,” Finn deadpanned. “Why do you and Poe keep referring to it like that when there was absolutely no blood involved? Knowing Poe, he’d have either thrown up or fainted.” 

Finn was buying time, Rey could tell. There was no good answer to her dilemma.

She could think of at least a dozen actors in Denver who’d given up their coveted Actor’s Equity cards because they couldn’t get enough work in town. Equity rules prohibited them from taking non-union roles, and there were only a few theatres that could scrape together enough money for a Guest Artist contract. On the other hand, if she finished the run here in Denver and the tour through England next year, she might be able to get enough weeks to qualify for health insurance through the union. That would be a huge relief.

But she doubted she’d ever get cast at the Denver Center again, even with an Equity card in hand, and she was never going to get cast in a musical at Arvada or Town Hall, and you couldn’t throw a rock in this town without hitting a 20-something actor with an actual degree, and...

“Rey, look. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but... You should probably say no to the contract and the Equity card. You’re talented, you’re hardworking, but you’re young. You’re still building your reputation here. And you shouldn’t limit yourself. Besides,” Finn’s face broke into a smile. “The pay for this gig is the same one way or the other, and I’m definitely not worried about them shitcanning you without an Equity contract to protect you. Trust me, they need you too much...”

Rey let out an exhale, blowing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. “Finn, you’re right. I know you are. I already dread telling Poe that I’m breaking my promise. There’s no way I can do _Dangerous Liaisons_ next spring, but at least I can make it up to him with another show.”

Finn waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, Poe will work it out. If I know him, he’s already coming up with another plan. He and Kaydel will probably want to do _The Vibrator Play_ or something.” 

“Damn right they will.” Rey’s laugh echoed off the cement walls, and the relief on her face was clear. Decision made. Hard to say if it was the right one or not.

“Alright, let me go get everything nailed down with Melanie in the office, and then I’ve... I don’t know, I’ve got to get downstairs for fittings and a rehearsal mask, I guess...”

“I’ll wait right here, Peanut, just to make sure you get where you’re going.”

Rey turned back, her eyes bright. She never cried. Not offstage, anyway. But something about Finn’s choice of words made her heart ache a little. She never believed she’d have friends like Finn or Poe, not in a million years. 

Just then, a thought came to her. “Hey, Finn - should we invite Ben to the closing night party on Saturday?”

“Should _we_ invite him? Um, yes... _you_ should invite him. I doubt he’ll actually show up. Like I said, he’s not much for socializing. But yes, _you_ absolutely should invite him...” 

Finn plopped down on the sofa and picked up a copy of the Denver Post. “Go on now, we’ve got a shit-ton of things to do and I don’t need to be back on Phasma’s bad side again so soon.”

Rey nodded in agreement. From the look of her, she didn’t want to be on Phasma’s bad side either. Ever. 

\-----

Ben sat unmoving in his chair as Kevin adjusted the straps on his Priam mask. The performance masks had been built out of carbon fiber using a mold of his head, and when this one was finished it would be covered in pigskin and decorated in gold leaf to match Hecuba’s mask. That crazy Greek bastard Dionysis had created clay sculptures on top of the molds for each of the characters in the play, and Ben was particularly fond of his Agamemnon mask. It was strangely expressive for a mask, with bags under the eyes and a downturned mouth that suggested a world of pain and heartache. 

Priam’s mask, on the other hand, with its enormous nose and narrow eyes, was proving especially challenging to fit properly. And since Ben was being asked to play Priam while balanced on four foot stilts, Kevin was worrying over his inability to see. 

Frankly, Ben was worrying too, having just discovered that the set was going to be covered in 15 tons of sand. It would be a miracle if he wasn’t injured. Or killed.

_How very on-brand for Luke_ , he thought, another directorial choice made without regard for Ben’s safety or sanity. But if he was honest, it was exactly the kind of challenge he loved. The higher the degree of difficulty the better. _Probably got that from my adrenaline junkie dad_.

Ben tested the fit of the mask, vibrating his lips to see if he could move them well enough to speak. It was a good fit, but not great. “Call my agent,” he intoned gravely in Priam’s deep voice as Kevin laughed.

Ben’s mind continued to drift as Kevin worked. God, what a mess he’d made of things upstairs. He’d hoped to get Rey’s number, perhaps ask her to meet for coffee during a break in rehearsal. Maybe a drink one evening. If things went further, he’d have been surprised but pleased. He was looking for... well, he honestly wasn’t sure _what_ he was looking for, but it damn sure wasn’t an entanglement of any kind with a fellow cast member. 

In five months of rehearsal, he’d seen every possible permutation of the “showmance”, and nearly all had ended badly. Only Larma and Wrobie seemed to be keeping things professional. There had been more than the usual number of extracurricular activities, mostly between the men in the ensemble and the women in the Chorus. No surprise, given the lengthy and stressful rehearsal process. And most had fizzled, at least according to Hux, the resident gossip. Hux was an unreliable narrator, however; Ben was certain there’d been something between him and Bazine, but Hux had denied it. Vehemently. It was strange. He’d known Hux since their time together at RADA, and Ben had never seen him miss the chance to gloat. 

Well, it was certainly a moot point now. Bazine was gone. Jessika would replace her and Rey would replace Jessika. And he'd never get the chance to know Rey better.

_Nothing for it now_ , Ben sighed to himself. He was determined to put her out of his head. Sure, they’d be rehearsing and performing and touring together, but Ben was a professional, first and foremost. Any passing attraction he might have felt for Rey was less important to him than the success of this show...

“Kevin, hey, sorry to interrupt.” Ben heard Finn’s voice from the doorway as Kevin carefully removed his mask. “This is Rey. She needs to be fitted for a rehearsal mask as soon as you can, she’s taking over for Jess in the Chorus.”

“Right, no worries, Rey, is it? Come on in and have a seat. Just finishing up with Ben here, and then we’ll get you all sorted out.”

Rey took the chair next to Ben, who abruptly stood to gather his things. 

“Peanut, I’ve got to get to a meeting with the lighting designer.” Finn turned to Ben. “Hey, if it’s not too much trouble, do you think you could get her over to the costume shop for her fitting when she’s done here? I think you don’t have call for another half hour, right?” 

Rey’s eyes met Finn’s in the reflection of the mirror, and he gave her a quick wink.

Ben slowly sat back down, oblivious to the exchange. “My pleasure, Finn.”

“I will leave her in your hands, then.” Another wink in the mirror. Rey rolled her eyes.

“Thanks, man!” Finn called over his shoulder as he left.

As Kevin rooted around in the storage room next door for a suitable rehearsal mask, Ben and Rey silently regarded each other. Rey broke eye contact first, shrugging off her messenger bag. “God, this is... a lot.”

Ben huffed in agreement. “It is a lot. This first week will be like trying to drink from a firehose.” 

_Way to freak the poor kid out,_ Ben winced inwardly. _Try another tack_. 

“But we are lucky to have you. I’m sure Leia will be there to show you the ropes, and Phasma is the best there is at this sort of thing. You’ll be ready before you know it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right. Leia has been so nice to me, really supportive...” 

Rey noticed a quick flash of - anger? Resentment maybe? Whatever it was she saw in his eyes, it was gone again.

“Anyway, this week is going to be a challenge. I mean, I’ve been able to call off work at two of my jobs, but I’ve still got three performances of _Kentucky Cycle_ and...” Rey stopped short, suddenly focused intently on a thread hanging loose from the hem of her t-shirt. “Sorry, I know it sounds like I’m complaining, I really do love being busy. I just don’t want to let anyone down.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage it, Rey.” Ben hadn’t meant to sound so dismissive and regretted the words immediately when she looked at him with those wide green eyes. 

“You’ll have more help than you know what to do with, between Leia and Phasma and Finn.” _Not much better_ , he thought. _God, when did I get so bad at talking to people_? _Right, adolescence..._

“And I’m here, promise you’ll come to me if you need anything.” At that, Rey broke into a wide, sunny smile. _Dimples. Look at those goddamn dimples..._

“I promise to come to you if I need anything, Ben. But only if you promise you’ll come by my house on Saturday for our closing night party.”

Kevin returned with a few rehearsal masks just then, holding them both up to Rey’s face for comparison and handing one to her. “Here, this should do for now, and we’ll get you back in for a proper fitting when the whole crew is here tomorrow.” He hustled them both out the door. “Off to the costume shop with you now, or Harter will have my head!”

As they headed down the corridor together, Ben could feel Rey’s eyes fixed expectantly on him. _I am sure to regret this_ , he thought, _but what the hell_. 

“Rey, I promise to come to your party on Saturday.” _Oh, for fuck’s sake, I sound like a twelve-year-old_...

Rey seemed not to notice, or care. Her grin grew even wider somehow. “I will hold you to that, Ben Solo.”

God. He was fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure - I am a former member of Actor's Equity, and was on the Area Liaison committee for a time, and I still have almost no idea how Equity contracts work. People here in Denver do indeed refer to it as the "Scarlet E"...


	5. Chapter Five

**_“Pay attention. This isn’t gonna happen again. Rather than try to understand it as it’s going along, have it go along for a while and then understand it.”_ **

_-Carrie Fisher_

The rest of the day passed by in a blur. Leia arrived in the costume shop just as Harter’s assistant was finishing her measurements, whisking her back across the street to the Tramway Building where Phasma awaited her arrival. She was armed with an enormous three-ring binder filled with reams of paper. 

Leia caught Rey’s look of trepidation and cheerfully patted her cheek. “Not to worry, my sweet girl. It’s not as bad as it looks.” 

She and Phasma exchanged a knowing look. “In fact, thanks to Phas here, it’s not as bad as it was a month ago. She and Luke have cut an entire play and tightened the whole thing by, what -” Leia turned to Phasma for confirmation. “Five hours?”

“Probably six by the time I’m done with it. It was originally more than 15 hours long, and Snoke wanted it performed over two days. Of course, the poor fucker has been writing this for seventeen goddamn years now, and he’s lost all sense of perspective. But he refused to let us cut a single word of it. I honestly don’t think Snoke and Luke will ever speak again, and they’ve been friends for more than four decades...”

Phasma paused, realizing that perhaps she’d said too much. “So anyway, once Snoke fucked off back to London, I took a machete to this monster, and voila! One day instead of two, nine plays instead of ten. And girls in bikinis.”

Leia gave a throaty laugh. “I always suspected the Bathing Beauties were your doing, Phas.”

“Speaking of which, let’s get your blocking down for the prologue, Rey. Lights up, and you will be upstage left under the shower rinsing sand off...”

\-----

Phasma spent the remainder of the afternoon literally running back and forth between the rehearsal room and the Stage Theatre across the street, where Ben was working with Jessika to get her up to speed as Cassandra. She was frankly thrilled with the progress both pairs were making. Jessika had taken her understudy duties quite seriously, it seemed, and was solidly off-book on entire sections of Play 7. It was too early to tell, but Luke was certainly more than pleased with their work. Jessika took direction far better than Bazine ever did. Of course, that was a low bar.

And Rey was a quick learner who - true to her professor’s word - appeared to have a nearly photographic memory. She and Leia were tearing through the blocking and were on pace to have the entirety of Part One learned by the end of the day. Phasma even thought that Rey could make a suitable understudy for Jessika, thereby saving her from the hell of Casting Tetris. There were already so many moving parts… But again, it was early days yet. She’d be better positioned to make the decision after Tuesday, when the whole cast was called and they could get some run-throughs done.

Phasma ran a hand through her cropped blonde locks and checked her watch. Damn Equity rules. Time to let everyone go for the day. Still, she might be able to catch a full eight hours of sleep tonight if she was lucky… _For the first time in five months_ , she realized with a groan. With all due respect to Sir John Snoke and his epic masterpiece - _fuck that guy_.

\-----

An exhausted Rey waved goodbye to Finn and Poe and unlocked the side gate of Maz’s house. 

Okay. _My house_.

_Honestly_ , she thought. _When will this ever feel like my house?_ After three years without Maz she still didn’t know the answer.

She headed toward the back door, stopping to adjust the angle of one of the planters on the deck as she passed. At the door, she turned, looked out over the backyard and smiled, pleased with the results of this summer’s work. Just a few last minute things - hang the Edison bulb strings, give the outdoor furniture a good going over with a damp rag, put out some tea lights and maybe an ashtray or three for Kaydel - and she’d be ready for Saturday night. Good thing, she doubted she’d have much time between now and then.

Since she lived on the corner, and she’d preemptively invited Paul and David from next door to come to the party, she wasn’t too concerned about the noise a crowd of actors this size - or any size - would certainly produce. The two houses shared an ornate brick wall which ran between the yards, with perhaps only five feet separating their houses. There wasn’t much in the way of privacy. 

Rey scoffed. There was absolutely _nothing_ going on in her house that needed to be kept private from Paul and David. 

Too tired to eat, Rey moved through the dark kitchen toward the stairs, passing by Maz’s room. As in the rest of the house, she and Finn had done extensive work to restore the pine floors and woodwork, and brought the original tiles and fixtures in the attached bathroom back to their former glory. But, other than a fresh coat of paint on the walls and trim, the bedroom itself remained mostly untouched. 

Rey’s space was upstairs in the loft, as it had been for the last… She had to stop and think about how long it had been since she moved into the gabled attic room in Maz’s house. Eight years, nine in April. She loved the cozy, cocooned feeling she had sleeping beneath the steeply angled walls. It was her refuge, the first place where she’d ever felt truly safe.

Finn had tried and failed to convince her that it made more sense to move into the first floor bedroom. “So, what - you just take showers down here and then run upstairs naked to dress? I bet the neighbors love that, Rey.”

“I promise you, Paul and David could not give two shits about my state of undress. And besides, I’m used to it. It’s just how it’s always been.”

Rey climbed the stairs to her space, glancing in dismay at the mountain of laundry she’d planned to tackle today. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Still, if she set an alarm and got up at 5 rather than 6 am, maybe she could get a load or two started before heading out. She pulled open the windows on either side of the loft to let the cool night air in, then toed off her shoes and stripped off her leggings and cropped t-shirt, crusted in sweat from both nerves and exertion. She’d worn them to audition, without realizing she’d be in them for the next ten hours straight.

Rey considered a shower, but the thought of standing for ten more minutes was more than she could manage. She washed her face and brushed her teeth and fell face first on the twin bed, calculating how many hours she thought she could get if she fell asleep right away. Six, perhaps. Normally, she could never fall asleep right away unless she fired up a selection from her small but well-curated sex toy collection, but tonight she was simply too tired to masturbate.

Too sapped to fap. Too spent to spend, too tanked to spank… She giggled herself to sleep, exhausted but… god, she was _happy_.

\-----

Ben lay awake, staring at the ceiling of his modestly furnished company apartment, unable to stop reviewing in exhaustive detail the events of the day. He’d tried every trick in the book to calm his mind: nearly an hour of capoeira, followed by unsuccessful attempts to meditate and read. He’d even turned on the television briefly, which just served to frustrate him even further.

_And why am I so frustrated?_

After the initial shock of learning about Bazine's departure, rehearsal with Jess had gone far better than he’d expected. And after the initial embarrassment over his encounter with Rey and Finn, she’d been perfectly cordial to him. Ben wasn’t too keen on attending a cast party for - well... _for someone else’s cast_ , but Rey’s eyes had lit up like a kid on Christmas morning when he’d said yes, and he... 

His thoughts drifted to Rey’s eyes again, wondering what it would be like to see them first thing in the morning, and... _ah, yes,_ that’s _why I'm frustrated_.

It was absurd. Back in London, he’s had his choice of women and men with which to spend time. And not a one of them in the theatre. Barristers, bankers, bartenders. But no actors. His self-imposed rules were absolutely unbreakable - _no dipping your quill in company ink_ , as Snoke liked to say. He’d been surprised to find himself prepared to bend those rules when it came to Rey. 

Now, of course, there could be no question of their involvement - not if they were working together. She would assume her place in the Chorus, _likely mentored by Leia_ , he groaned, and Ben would have almost no interaction with her at all, onstage or offstage. Rey would become another faceless, nameless Bathing Beauty, and he’d forget she was even there.

Ben’s fist gripped the covers tightly. _So why can’t I stop thinking about her?_

\-----

_in the Past_

_Ben doesn’t belong._

_He’s known this for as long as he can remember. His tall, strong, brave, laughing father is never around - he’s too busy pretend-fighting, or teaching other people to pretend-fight._

_And when his father is around, he and his mother are too busy not-pretend-fighting to notice him. Their only child._

_His warm, beautiful, smart, funny mother is never around - she is too busy pretending to be other people. And when she is around, she is so drained emotionally by the pretending that she barely notices him._

_He definitely doesn’t belong in school. He’s too smart, and inclined to alienate both teachers and fellow students with his constant need to prove it. He feels too much, and is incapable of hiding it - any of it, really. But mostly his anger. It’s the easiest emotion for him to feel, and he learns to use it as a substitute for all the other emotions when they threaten to surface. Loneliness, fear, sadness; they are all replaced by a fury that frightens everyone around him._

_His Picasso of a face doesn’t help matters - his nose is too big, his eyes are too small. His ears are too much. But Ben’s classmates soon learn it’s best not to mention it. Always tall for his age, he spends hours learning capoeira and soon looms over older kids. His size, coupled with his inability to control his anger, leads officials at a series of schools to label him “a discipline problem”._

_After the administration at the costly private school requests that he “matriculate elsewhere”, his mother decides to send him to her brother in England for “a time”. No one is willing to say how long. And what better place for a boy who doesn’t fit in? A foreign country where his very..._ American-ness _will single him out for ridicule. So he is shipped off to London to live with an uncle who has even less time for him than either of his parents._

_\-----_

_He hovers angrily at the edges, mostly alone. Until he is fifteen, and he discovers acting._

_This, it turns out, is where all the other Misfit Toys have come to live. Where his intelligence and his capacity for feeling are admired rather than mocked. Where he learns to channel his anger._

_His temporary stay in England becomes indefinite. Out from under the shadow of his mother and his father, he learns he has a natural gift for both acting and stage combat. He doesn’t know why this surprises him, but it does._

_Luke actively discourages these pursuits, and when he realizes that Ben will not be dissuaded, he obstructs Ben at every turn. It is Sir John Snoke, Luke’s oldest friend and the cofounder of the Royal Shakespeare Company, who sees Ben’s true potential and takes him under his wing._

_He is encouraged to audition for the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, and is accepted. He doesn’t know why this surprises him, but it does._

_Upon graduation, Snoke asks him to join the RSC rep company. Luke voices his strenuous objections to anyone who will listen. The other directors laud Ben for both his talent and his versatility, but he is proudest when he is complimented for his fearlessness as an actor, a trait he secretly likes to think he inherited from his parents._

_Han is too busy to make the trip to see him perform in his first professional role. Leia is too strapped for cash to travel over. Luke is too worried that people will believe he has used his connections to benefit Ben. In truth, no one either knows or cares about Ben’s connection to any of them._

_Ben does not invite any of them a second time._

_\-----_

_Ben finds a superficial sense of belonging with the members of the rep company. Armitage Hux, his classmate from RADA, is an occasional companion, if perhaps too prone to misplaced envy. Snoke likes to stoke the fires of this competitive spirit, although Ben regularly points out that it’s idiotic - they are not likely to be considered for the same roles. Hux, with his handsome face and features, is inevitably a better choice as leading man, and Ben is far happier playing the Ghost_ _and_ _the Player King_ _and_ _the Gravedigger than he would be playing only Hamlet._

_Occasionally, Ben sleeps with women. Less occasionally, he sleeps with men. He finds rest with neither, however, and rarely sees anyone more than two or three times. He knows that true love and happily-ever-afters are a fiction, as demonstrated so perfectly by his parents. He needs to look no further for proof than the characters he plays - their stories rarely end happily either._

_Ben is cast a dozen times in Luke’s productions - roles large and small in Chekov, Shakespeare, Beckett and Euripides - and each time Luke makes him feel as though he is the last choice, an option more than likely forced down his throat by Snoke. After he participates in early readings of_ Tantalus _, Ben thinks that Luke will finally cast him because he wants to, not because he has to._

_He is less surprised than anyone when Luke casts his friend John Carlisle instead._

_When Carlisle inexplicably balks at the notion of acting in a mask, Luke relents and casts Ben. And, when the British Arts Council inevitably fucks over Snoke, Skywalker, and the RSC in the bargain, Ben is dragged halfway around the world to Mile High City, to the welcoming arms and open wallet of Lando Calrissian. There is not much oxygen, and even less culture. But the food is good, the pay is steady, and the accommodations are spartan but clean._

_And the roles? God, the roles. Unhappily-ever-afters all around. Priam alone qualifies as the part of a lifetime, but the tragedy of Agamemnon and his doomed daughter Iphegenia and his warbride Cassandra - this is a story that breaks Ben wide open. And he will pour all of his pain and loneliness out onto the sand-covered stage._

_And he will do it while his mother bears witness. She will see, and she will understand - finally - who he is. And maybe she will love him._

_\-----_

Rey started awake at the sound of her alarm. God, she felt like she’d just fallen asleep, noting that she hadn’t even moved during the night but remained on her stomach, splayed out like a starfish.

She grabbed an armload of dirty clothes and padded down the stairs to start her coffee and her laundry and her day. 

If she really got a wiggle on, as Maz used to say, she could get over to the Media Center across the alley and get things cleaned up and ready for the week before most of the staff arrived. 

She’d called off at Do-It-Urself, telling a furious Unkar Plutt that she wasn’t sure when she’d be back. In truth, she wasn’t sure _if_ she’d be back. She knew full well that he needed her more than she needed him, especially now that she’d scavenged the vintage fixtures from his inventory to fix up Maz’s house. _Her_ house. 

The nice folks over at Sam's No. 3 had been downright thrilled at the news that _Tantalus_ would keep her off the server schedule for the foreseeable future, leading her to suspect that perhaps she was not as good a waiter as she thought. 

But she hadn’t been able to tell Tony her good news yet, mostly because she wasn’t sure he actually owned a phone. She’d sort of fallen ass-backwards into the job at the Five Points Media Center, which housed two public radio stations and a public television station in a sprawling old bakery warehouse across the alley. Since it was located just behind her house, she’d started working odd jobs there in high school, and continued to do everything from emptying trash cans to recording scratch voiceovers to repairing electrical equipment. She was sure Tony could find an intern willing to take over most of her duties, but she needed to get today’s to-do list managed before she handed things off. Her call at the theatre was at noon, so barring any natural disasters overnight, she could manage it all.

\-----

“Where the hell is she?” Phasma stormed into the rehearsal room. “Gods, please don’t tell me I’ve got another Bazine on my hands. Her call was fifteen minutes ago.”

“Relax, Phas. Rey got here early and Kevin asked her to come by so they could get started on making her performance mask. I’m sure they’re just running behind.”

Phasma relaxed, but only slightly. “Well, I wish to hell someone would tell _me_ these things. The blocking in Part Two is a bear, and we need to get started. I don’t need another flaky actor swanning in whenever they damn well feel like it and fucking with my already fucked schedule -”

Rey’s shaking voice came from the doorway. “Phasma, I am so, _so_ sorry! I kept telling Kevin that you were waiting, they just got carried away and lost track of time and -” Rey rushed into the room and dropped her bag, a stricken look on her face.

“Rey, this is not your fault. Phasma is just trying to keep a lot of plates spinning right now, she didn’t mean anything by it.” Leia threw her a look. “Isn't that right, Phasma?”

Rey jumped in before Phasma could respond. “It won’t happen again, I promise. Where do you want me to start?”

_Lord, she’s the sweetest girl I’ve ever met_ , Leia thought. _They are going to chew her up and spit her out_.

“From the top of  Neoptolemus, Phasma?” Leia continued to glare meaningfully at her.

“Yes.” Phasma looked somewhat shamefaced. “From the top.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maz's - I mean, Rey's - little house and the radio and tv station across the alley in Five Points are real places, as is Sam's No.3. The menu is a seemingly random combination of Mexican, Greek and diner fare - somehow it works.
> 
> And Do-It-Urself used to be a real place before it sadly went out of business. I spent way too many Saturdays there scrounging vintage bathroom fixtures for our old house.


	6. Chapter Six

**_“I trust myself. I trust my instincts. I know what I’m gonna do, what I can do, what I can’t do. I’ve been through a lot, and I could go through more, but I hope I don’t have to. But if I did, I’d be able to do it.”_ **

_-Carrie Fisher_

If Rey thought her first day of rehearsal was a blur, the first week felt more like being in the center of a tornado. The quicker she picked things up, the faster Phasma would throw new things her way. Thank god for Leia and the other women in the Chorus - she still couldn’t bring herself to call them the Bathing Beauties - who were forever having to gently nudge Rey in one direction or another, book in hand, rehearsal mask balancing precariously on top of her head.

By Wednesday, she’d been through an entire run of the show, from the modern Greek seaside to the fields of Mycenae, the shores at Aulis and the walls of Troy. She’d traveled from the beaches at Thrace through Phthia to Delphi. 

By Thursday, she’d been tapped by Phasma to start learning Jessika’s new roles as her official understudy. There was some grumbling at first from a few other members of the Chorus, which Leia quickly silenced by helpfully pointing out that they did not under any circumstances want to make more work for Phasma than she already had. The Bathing Beauties did not have a good counterargument for this. Phasma terrified them.

By Friday, Rey was shadowing Jess as Thetis and Cassandra and the Pythoness, noting down her blocking and the cuts Phasma and Luke had made to her scenes with Priam and Agamemnon. Where Jess had months to learn, Rey would have a matter of days. Phasma had already scheduled an understudy rehearsal for the Monday following the show’s first preview, giving Rey just three weeks to learn Jessika’s new lead roles along with her new Chorus role. It was just as well that Rey was too exhausted by rehearsal and now by _Kentucky Cycle_ performances to be stressed out. Fortunately, she memorized quickly and - as Jess cheerfully pointed out - at least she didn’t have to learn and then unlearn lines as they were cut. Probably.

By Saturday, Rey discovered that she was already half in love with Ben Solo.

The first time she heard that sonorous, beautiful baritone voice of his, lowered half a register as he rehearsed Priam, Rey felt inexplicably lightheaded. The first time she saw him, hunched but graceful on four foot stilts while he leaned on a pair of canes, as he stretched out a single enormous hand in a gesture that evoked an entire lifetime of pain, Rey felt the rehearsal room tilt. And the first time she watched as Ben and Jess removed their masks and stepped into an embrace, Rey felt like her heart would beat out of her chest.

When she looked around her, sure that someone else could hear the hammering of her heart, Rey met Leia’s eyes. 

“He is really something, isn’t he?” Leia whispered. “Watching him, I can’t help but think he got this talent from his father, not from me. Do you see how he always seems to be moving, even when he’s perfectly still? Han has that same kind of kinetic energy and grace, I think it’s what makes him such a great fight director.”

Leia glanced quickly around to ensure no one could hear them. “And I certainly should not say this, but wait until you see him without a shirt. He _definitely_ got that from his dad.”

Rey was sure she gulped audibly.

\-----

There was no time to get home and then back to the Civic in time for her call, so Rey was forced to adjust her typical pre-show ritual - masturbate, nap, shower. In spite of a wealth of new and vivid imagery at her disposal courtesy of a certain gorgeous fellow actor, she regretfully skipped the first step altogether, taking a fifteen minute catnap and a shower in the dressing room and then hopping her bike to the Santa Fe Arts District for closing night. 

Secure in the knowledge that she’d be too busy and stressed out to experience the inevitable post-show funk when _Kentucky Cycle_ closed, all Rey could really think about as she rode out of downtown was having the day off tomorrow. 

Well, mostly off. Learning lines, laundry, and in all likelihood, cleaning up the carnage the cast would leave behind after tonight’s party. Kaydel had volunteered to resume hosting duties when she booked _Tantalus_ , and when Rey declined, had insisted on spending the day at Rey’s getting everything ready. Rey was not sure whether to be grateful or terrified. 

She’d hate to see this show end, but it was emotionally grueling, and getting it in her rearview mirror would be a relief. Rey knew she’d have other opportunities to work with Kay and Rose and Poe and even - god help her - Snap Wexley. 

If Poe was successful in building a resident company at the Denver Civic, perhaps Rey would even get the chance to do some lighting design. She’d loved the little bit of experience she got in college. There was something satisfying about coming up with a clever visual idea and a lighting plot, plugging the cues into the computer, and seeing it emerge, larger than life, onstage. Hell, she even liked climbing around in the catwalks during light hangs, and _no one_ liked to do that... maybe Poe would let her assist his designer on the next show. If she was around.

Rey winced guiltily. Poe was adamant about waiting on _Liaisons_ until she could do it. He thought the producers at the Civic could be put off until September, and he and Kaydel were currently discussing alternatives for a spring show. 

Meanwhile Rey, who’d never been outside the Denver Metro before her ill-fated trip to Philly, was going to spend half a year traveling all over England. It was - how had Poe put it? _The chance of a lifetime._ Rey just hoped desperately that she wouldn’t fuck it up. 

She skidded to a stop in the parking lot of the Denver Civic, and wheeled past the bike racks outside the entrance. No way in hell was she leaving her bike locked up out here. The neighborhood had always been relatively safe, and was changing rapidly since being designated an “arts district”; the street was lined with art galleries and boutiques and coffee shops. But there wasn’t a bike rack in town that she trusted. Better to risk the wrath of a building owner than lose her only mode of transportation. 

And the basement of the Civic - which was _absolutely_ haunted - made the perfect place to stash her bike. No one else would even venture down there, especially the owners.

Rey made her way to the dressing room and grabbed a spot close to the door. The long room was narrow and crowded with cast members and costumes. It had been designed to hold no more than 16 people at a given time, and with a cast of two dozen it was overflowing. Fortunately, costume changes were nearly nonexistent, but the racks still groaned under the weight of shirts, pants, skirts and jackets in varying but uniformly ugly earth tones. 

Kaydel had stepped in as the unofficial costume mistress and laundered what could be washed by machine every week. Still, a five week run in the heat of summer meant that everything was pretty ripe by closing weekend, and no amount of Febreze would help.

Rey quickly applied her stage makeup, contouring her nose and jaw and then concentrating on her eyes and her lips. Normally, she’d do a warmup first and then apply her makeup at her leisure, spend some time focusing and flipping through her script, then dressing last in order to avoid soiling her costume and enraging a costumer. 

But there was nothing normal about _The Kentucky Cycle_. To avoid the crowds, she dressed first, did her face, and then fled the dressing room - and Snap - to do her warm-up. Dirt or makeup on this costume, in its muted shades of brown and more brown, could only improve it.

On her way out of the dressing room to warm up and check her props, she ran headlong into Kaydel. “Oh, sweet Rey!” Kay hugged her hard, heedless of her made-up face. “We’ve got _lots_ to catch up on, you clever girl. See you at the front window in a few!” 

Rey ran quickly through her vocal and physical warmups, still feeling relatively loose from the day’s rehearsals. Kaydel found her on the floor, knees bent while rocking her pelvis and rolling her lower back and moaning.

“Damn Sutton, you make warming up sound hot as hell...”

Rey snorted but remained prone with her eyes closed. “I am definitely not your type, Connix.”

“Never say never, sweet Rey. I’ve straight up worn Austen out, and I’m definitely going to need to invest in a higher quality sex toy. The batteries in my rabbit died the other day and I nearly took the double As out of Jack’s soother swing. Dark days, lemme tell you...”

“Quite the moral quandary, Kaydel,” Rey laughed as she sat up and stretched her legs. She suspected Kay was exaggerating for effect, and likely had no fewer than three toys fully charged and ready at any given moment. “Everything alright back at the house?”

“All set, you don’t have to lift a finger tonight.” Kaydel assumed her usual perch on the front window sill and drew out a cigarette. “Goddamn, I gotta tell you, your house looks great. I love everything you’ve done. No wonder you want to show it off.” She smiled - cryptically, Rey thought - and lit up her cigarette.

“I’m glad you like it, Kay. It’s so small, I hope we have enough room. But I’m so grateful to you for stepping up and helping... I really had no idea what this week was going to be like.”

“Oh, my pleasure. As far as I’m concerned, tonight is a celebration for both _Tantalus_ and _Kentucky Cycle_.” Kaydel’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m so fucking proud of you, sweet Rey... oh, goddamn it, what is wrong with me? My hair is falling out in clumps and all I want to do is fuck and cry...”

“Sounds totally normal to me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Rey,” Rose said from the doorway. “There is literally nothing normal about Kaydel Connix. And also, fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you, fifteen!” replied Old Maryann and Young Maryann for a final time.

\-----

The cast party was in full swing by the time Ben and Jessika arrived. There were probably thirty people in the backyard, standing around on the small patch of lawn or seated on the deck, all of them lit by the warm yellow glow of strings of bulbs that crisscrossed the yard. Rey had instructed Jess to park in the Media Center lot across the alley, since the reclusive Tony was in attendance and had offered Rey free use of it. He was currently gripping a red cup full of a dangerous looking dark red liquid, expounding on the miracle of biodiesel from reclaimed fryer oil and bragging about being “off the government’s tit” while Kaydel made off-color remarks about breasts as an... aid to lovemaking, as far as Ben could make out.

Rey caught Ben’s eye across the yard and ran up to the new arrivals, two more red cups in hand. “You guys made it, I’m so glad! Here, try some of Kay’s Hallucinogenic Sangria, it’s famous!”

Jessika took a swig and rolled her eyes. “Oh, that’s really smooth!”

Ben reached out somewhat more gingerly. “Hallucinations, you say?”

“Nothing illegal, Kaydel swears it’s just a little nutmeg.” Rey laughed, her cheeks flushed. _She’s adorable_ , Ben thought. _Christ, what am I doing here_...

Ben tentatively swallowed some sangria. “That is actually quite good. It doesn’t taste like there’s any alcohol in it.”

“Precisely the problem,” Finn chimed in, appearing at Rey’s side and holding a beer. “Before you know it, you’re three sangrias in and naked in a broom closet. Or so I hear...” Rey giggled and gave Ben a knowing look.

Jessika spotted a few cast members she knew from the University of Denver and wandered off to catch up. “That’s right, I always forget, Jessika is from Denver. Not that she’d admit it.” Finn shook his head, swallowed the rest of his beer and turned to Rey. “Hey Peanut, I’m gonna grab another... why not show Ben what we’ve been up to in the house?”

“Oh sure, I’m -“ Rey caught the perplexed look on Ben’s face as Finn walked away and laughed again, her dimples deepening. “No, no - that’s not what Finn meant! He’s been helping me with some renovations. In fact, we just finished this deck a few weeks ago.” 

“You did this?” 

“Please try to sound less surprised. I am very handy, I promise you.”

Ben and Rey both blushed. Rey recovered first. “Come on, I’ll show you what we’ve done.”

She placed a hand on his forearm for a brief moment, then blushed a little deeper and snatched it away again before turning toward the house. “Finn likes to say it’s like the opposite of a TARDIS, it’s smaller on the inside.”

Ben laughed politely and followed her, wondering if he should mention that he’d done a few episodes of _Doctor Who_.

\-----

“And that’s the tour.”

Rey turned around in time to see Ben narrowly avoid slamming his head into a gable. “Sorry, it’s a house for short people. Maz used to say I was probably the tallest person who ever lived here.”

Ben navigated to the center of the room, where the pitch of the roof enabled him to stand without sustaining injury. “Is Maz your mother?” he asked, taking a sip of sangria. He’d have to pace himself, he was already feeling somewhat buzzed. _Fucking Kaydel._

“She was... No, I don’t - I can’t really remember my parents. And Maz, she wasn’t my mom, not officially. Close enough as makes no never mind, she used to say. For about five years.” Rey looked down at her drink. “She was the first person who made me feel like I could just be... me, I guess. We loved each other so much, enough for a whole lifetime.”

Ben took a step toward her. “I’m... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up anything -”

Rey looked up at him, her face brightening. “Oh, no! You didn’t, I only have the best memories of Maz,” Rey lied breezily. “It’s just the sangria making me nostalgic. Fucking Kaydel.”

“Well, you’ve done incredible work here, and I’m sure Maz would be proud of you.” Ben said softly. 

_She looks so beautiful_ , he mused, watching her there in the half light that spilled from the stairs. He reached out, and gently pushed a strand of hair from her face. Rey shivered at his touch, and then stepped back and cleared her throat before swallowing the last of her drink.

“Finn helped so much, and Poe drove me around to all the thrift stores looking for furniture,” she said briskly. “Hell, Kaydel even came in today and surprised me by cleaning while I was at rehearsal. And she made enough food for an army. Are you hungry?”

_God, I am so hungry_ , Ben thought. 

And then realized how close he’d just come to making a terrible mistake. Fucking sangria _._

_Fucking Kaydel._

He followed Rey down the stairs and back out into the balmy Colorado night.

\-----

Rey lay curled up on the long outdoor sofa, her head in Poe’s lap and her feet on Finn’s. She hummed contentedly as the former ran his fingers gently through her hair and the latter mindlessly rubbed her feet.

She peered out of one eye at Rose and her girlfriend Jannah as they snuggled on the loveseat opposite. “I feel like Bastet,” she murmured.

“Qu’est ce que what now?” Kaydel replied sleepily from the chair where she’d collapsed just a few minutes ago after a last round of tidying and gathering recyclables.

“Bastet, the Egyptian cat goddess,” Jannah chimed in. “The goddess of women’s secrets, as I recall. Are you keeping something secret from us, Rey?”

“Yes. I noticed that Ben’s tour of the house took quite a while,” Finn remarked casually.

Kaydel sat up at this. “Wait, what? Did you give that side of beef the _tour_ , Rey?”

Rey adjusted her position to meet Kay’s eyes. “No, definitely nothing like that, oh my god. What is with you people?”

“What do you mean ‘you people’, Rey? Do you mean five people in long-term, monogamous relationships with nothing better to do than live vicariously through you?” Kaydel had inexplicably chosen the cast party to quit smoking, and the strain was already starting to show. “Throw me a bone, sweet Rey. Or throw Ben a bone. Or... for chrissake, somebody bone!”

“You know perfectly well that Rey is morally opposed to the ‘showmance’ -”

“- if only because it’s the dumbest portmanteau I’ve ever heard...” Rey interjected, sitting up a bit more.

“- _and_ ,” Poe continued, undeterred, “She is also opposed to romance in general. Watching a Hallmark movie with her is the single most demoralizing experience I’ve ever had, it’s like she doesn’t even believe in _love_.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe in love, Poe. How could I not? I mean, just look at you two. And Rose and Jannah? And... Kay, I guess, although I assume much of that relationship is fear-based...”

Kaydel chortled menacingly. “You have no idea...”

“Anyway, I just don’t... I don’t really have time for love or relationships, that’s all,” Rey lied cheerfully. “And... yeah, I mean, Ben Solo is... well, he’s incredibly talented and -”

“I just bet he is -”

“- _and_ ,” Rey continued over Kaydel, “he is built like a brick shithouse, but he’s also very professional. I’m sure a ‘showmance’ is beneath him -”

“I bet you’d like to be beneath him -” Kay was on a roll now. 

“- _and_ even if it wasn’t, I am sure I’d be the last person he’d want to get involved with. I’m a nobody with no degree and no training and no clue what I’m doing.”

“Peanut, that’s ridiculous. Everyone is blown away by how quickly you’re picking things up and -”

“That’s just because Leia and the rest of the girls are literally getting me where I need to be.” Rey pulled her knees up and hugged them. “I’ve already got a nearly crippling case of Imposter Syndrome, and the last thing I need is some fling with another cast member to make people _really_ look down on me.”

Rey turned to Kay. “Listen, there is absolutely nothing I find sexier and more attractive than talent. And Ben Solo is hands down the most talented actor I have ever seen. But I am sure the reverse is also true. I’m no one. What would he ever see in me?”

“Dollface, don’t talk about yourself like that.”

“No, it’s true, Poe. I’m a nobody, and for the next eight months I am going to be a nobody in a mask, or in a bikini, or whatever. I know I’m just set dressing. But I will be a well-paid nobody, I will work my ass off, and trust me, I will be happy doing it. I’m going to make enough money to pay off my bills and refinance my house and finally get ahead, and at the end of it I will still be a nobody. And I am totally fine with that.”

No one said anything for a long moment. 

“Damn, sweet Rey. That’s the most I’ve _ever_ heard you speak.”

Rey laughed and tossed her empty red cup at Kay’s head. To her credit, Kay did not even duck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the Denver Civic Theatre is haunted. Most of the theatres in Denver seem to be, I honestly have no idea why. And a friend did start a fire in the basement trying to smudge the spirits away. 
> 
> The Hallucinogenic Sangria is a real thing and is to blame for many ill-advised cast party hookups. Or so I hear...


	7. Chapter Seven

**_“You know the bad thing about being a survivor... You keep having to get into difficult situations in order to show off your gift.”_ **

_-Carrie Fisher_

Bad things come in threes. 

Theatre people are a notoriously suspicious lot, and so everyone accepted this as fact. Furthermore, no one could be blamed for counting in order these three bad things as comprising the shit luck widely known as the “Tantalus Curse”: the departures of Snoke, Mitaka, and Bazine. Carlisle hardly counted in the reckoning, as he’d decamped before the commencement of rehearsals. Most of the cast and crew were completely unaware of his existence.

The crew, led by Finn and Kevin and Harter, did not even count the hundreds of smaller things that could and did go wrong on any given day - these things were par for the course in a production of this magnitude. 

Barring any whistling backstage or inadvertent references to The Scottish Play, no one doubted that all would be well.

And therefore the irony was lost on absolutely no one when Jessika Pava, lately a member of the _Tantalus_ Chorus and just upgraded to Principle status, ruptured her Achilles’ tendon while rehearsing the role of Thetis, the mother of Achilles. Indeed, her false step and subsequent plummet backwards off the stage might have proven far more serious if Jess’ new understudy, Rey Sutton, had not seen that she was about to fall and rushed forward to help break it. 

Little good it did Rey.

Jess wouldn’t require surgery, to everyone’s relief, but she’d be confined to a boot for the next several weeks. Playing Thetis, even with blocking adjusted to account for her injury, was unlikely. Playing Cassandra was totally out of the question. 

Now, little more than a week into rehearsals, the understudy’s understudy would be required to take over as Thetis and Cassandra. And the Pythoness. That was the full list.

Gwendolyn Phasma felt she might be close to a complete psychotic break. 

True, Rey had been using her downtime during rehearsals wisely and well. Once she found out she’d be Jess’ understudy, she’d started learning the new roles alongside her handful of Chorus lines. But the rest of the cast had been rehearsing for more than five months. It was already after Labor Day, and previews were less than two weeks out. 

Comments once made in jest about the potential upside of a blood sacrifice took on a more serious tone and started to gain traction among a majority of the cast. Vegans included.

The cast and crew looked at Rey with a range of emotions, from sympathy to consternation to outright pity. The common conclusion was this: Rey Sutton was hoist with her own petard. Or, as the Americans in the Anglo-American cast would say - _fucked_.

“Look, there’s nothing else for it. Jessika will resume her role in the Chorus, and we will adjust her blocking and her costumes to account for the boot.” Luke crossed his arms across his barrel of a chest and leaned back, regarding Phasma with uncharacteristic seriousness. 

Phasma looked up from the chaos of the director’s table and fixed Luke with a bloodshot glare. “I am aware that there is _nothing else for it_ , that we are well and truly out of good options, Luke. I just cannot fathom how anyone - let alone a young, inexperienced actor like Rey - will be able to make this work.”

Honestly, she wasn’t sure _she’d_ be able to make any of it work - how she'd managed up to this point was a mystery.

_Marry in haste, repent at leisure._

If Gwendolyn Phasma ever had a moment to reflect at her leisure - a word with which she’d become increasingly less familiar over the last half a year - she would realize that the breakneck pace she’d maintained to this point had been a blessing. No time to consider the consequences of any given decision, just on to the next of a hundred decisions to be made. 

Now, she was married to the decision to cast Rey. And Phasma had no choice but to make it work.

\-----

Following the requisite meal break between afternoon and evening rehearsals, the cast gathered out in the house and awaited the arrival of Luke and Phasma. Leia noted with interest how the cast still self-segregated, even after so many months of working together. The English cast members - which included her son, she noted somewhat sadly - sat together in a cluster close to the stage. The men in the ensemble and the women in the Chorus - all Americans - sat intermingled throughout the center section of seats. Leia also noted with a smile that there was more holding of hands and leaning of heads on shoulders among the group than before. 

Leia wondered where, given the events of the day, Rey would be sitting. Would she naturally gravitate toward the seven other actors in lead roles, or choose to sit with the more familiar ensemble members? She looked around curiously - and realized with a shock that Rey was not there at all. She glanced quickly at her phone, and determined she had about three minutes before rehearsal began. 

She needed to vamp. 

“Oh, god...” Leia stood suddenly, clutching vaguely at her midsection and moving quickly up the aisle toward the lobby. “I’ve got to... I’ll be back as soon as I can, tell Luke and Phasma I’ll be back as soon as I...” 

Leia rushed for the door and exited without looking back. _That ought to buy me some time_ , she thought with a chuckle. 

_Now where the hell is Rey_... Leia racked her brains. She knew that Rey had taken to sneaking off to work on lines whenever they were on their union-mandated breaks. It wouldn’t be near the costume shop or the dressing rooms, where she’d risk getting caught working while supposedly off the clock, or even in one of the other unused theatres in the complex, where there’d be too much traffic from cast and crew. The business offices, perhaps? They’d be convenient enough to the Stage Theatre, but far enough away that no one from the show would be likely to bother her.

On a hunch, Leia quickly made her way down the carpeted hallway toward the offices. As she turned the corner, Beaumont Kin came into view. The genial writer waved in greeting as she approached. Leia vaguely remembered he had a pompous sounding title that didn’t suit him - “Senior Arts Journalist” or “Elder Statesman of the Theatre” or some such horseshit...

“Beau, you haven’t seen Rey Sutton around, have you?” 

“Well, no, not recently. But I did hear someone in the hallway just now. It sounded like crying, I thought about stopping to check on them, but I’ve become so used to hearing people sobbing over the last six months that -”

“Shit.” Leia grabbed his arm. “Where did you say this was?”

“Just around the corner… I’ll show you.” Kin turned and led Leia down a darkened hallway. 

There, in an alcove outside an empty office, Rey sat huddled with her knees drawn up. She was, in fact, _not_ crying. Leia would have expected that. Instead, Rey was staring ahead into the distance, mumbling incoherently.

“Uh... is she -” 

Leia interrupted Kin with a firm hand on his arm before dropping to her knees in front of Rey. To Leia’s relief, Rey met her eyes. _Okay, so not catatonic_...

That relief was short-lived. Rey looked like a deer in headlights. “I’m just - I’ve been, I’m trying to learn my lines before rehearsal, I’m not off-book yet, and they’re gonna find out and fire me, they are gonna see that I’m nobody, I’m no good, I -” Rey shuddered out a breath. “I don’t think I can do this, Leia. Please. Don’t make me go in there. They’ll find out that I don’t know my lines yet and they’ll know I’m an imposter and that I don’t belong here. Please, don’t make me?”

Leia took a deep breath and drew Rey into her arms, nodding at Kin as she did. He gave an answering wave of his hand and walked quietly away.

“Rey,” Leia murmured quietly, cradling the back of the young girl's head gently and stroking her hair. “Rey, you are not an imposter, and you belong here as much as anyone, I promise. Everything will be fine.” 

She drew back and looked into Rey’s eyes. “Well, _fine_ is perhaps too much to ask. _Not a disaster_ is probably all we can hope for at this point. But no one is expecting you to go in there right now loaded for bear. Two weeks is... well, it’s not that much time, but more than enough for you. Not to worry, we’ll get you up and ready long before previews.”

Rey looked at Leia and smiled weakly. “As inspiring speeches go, that was pretty terrible, Leia.”

“No St. Crispin’s Day speech, I’ll grant you that. But it’ll have to do in a pinch. Come on,” Leia pulled Rey gently to her feet and tucked her hair behind her ears. “I feigned explosive diarrhea to buy some time, but we better get back there.”

Rey gave Leia a bewildered look before bursting into hysterical giggles. “I’m picturing the look on Pryde’s face!” she gasped as they rushed down the hall toward the theatre. At the door, Rey grabbed Leia’s arm.

“Leia, thank you.”

Leia covered Rey’s hand with hers and squeezed gently in reply. “ _Once more unto the breach_...”

\-----

“So, I’d like to do a quick interview with Rey for the website. The whole ‘local girl makes good’ angle, I think it will really be -”

Phasma held up a hand to stop Beaumont Kin. “Just how _quick_ are you talking, Mr. Kin? Rey has absolutely not a minute to spare. As it is, she’s been using her designated breaks and mealtimes to learn lines - not that I am supposed to know anything about that - and I cannot spare her from rehearsal. We are desperately behind schedule.”

“Well, what if I interview her over a meal break? I can take her across the street for a quick bite and ask her a few questions while she’s eating.”

She pondered for a moment. At least this way she’d know for certain that Rey was actually eating. Even if she hadn’t signed an Equity contract, Phasma was still bound by union rules to make sure Rey was taking all the mandated breaks. And she felt _morally_ obligated to make sure Rey took care of herself.

“I’ll tell you what, Kin. I will ask Rey, and if she’s willing to speak to you that’s fine. But I am not - under any circumstances - _telling_ her that she has to submit to an interview. And you will limit your time interviewing her to no more than 20 minutes.”

“But I -”

The hand rose again. “If I hear that you have exceeded that time by a single second, Kin, I will find you and I will hurt you. Is that clear?”

Beaumont nodded emphatically - eagerly, even - and made a mental note to line up an interview with Phasma as soon as things calmed down a bit. She was… a whole lotta woman.

\-----

“Alright, let’s take this again from Agamemnon’s entrance. Rey, my dear, I need you a bit further upstage when he comes in and… yes, just there, that’s perfect. You’ll remain there until Tabala’s, er… I mean Ilione’s exit,” Luke paused, wondering if at this point it would confuse Rey more to refer to the actor or the character by name. _It would matter little either way, poor girl_ …

“And remember, you are listening, absorbing everything that passes between Agamemnon and Odysseus. They do not acknowledge you, but they know you are there.”

The scene continued, as Ben and Frantis and then Enric said their lines and Rey waited for her cue to cross and light the beacon. She then moved around the back of the fallen head of Apollo, a massive set piece with footholds in back of it. She climbed the ten foot tall head and stood atop it, chanting the Greek words of Cassandra’s prophecy as the actors below continued the scene.

Ben stood transfixed, watching Rey as she held her arms open wide and intoned the lines of text, as he asked Enric to translate, something about a bull and a cow and a wolf and a hound.

Agamemnon:

_What is the matter?_

_What is she saying?_

He wondered momentarily where she’d learned to speak Greek so well.

Agamemnon:

_What language is she speaking?_

Polymestor:

_The language of the Oracles._

Agamemnon:

_It is hard to understand._

Polymestor:

_It is safer not to try._

Agamemnon:

_Tell me what she’s saying._

Polymestor:

_She is saying, Agamemnon,_

_That your own wife will kill you._

Agamemnon:

_My wife? It is..._

Ben paused, silently thanking Snoke for the laugh line.

_...possible._

Rey broke off her chanting on cue, and looked down at him on the stage below, her head tilted slightly with wonder and curiosity. _Just right_ , Ben thought. He marveled, not for the first time, at how she instinctively knew how to make the mask work for her, how to convey the emotions so clearly without words.

Enric, as Polymestor, finished his lines and exited, leaving only Cassandra and Agamemnon onstage. Ben took a deep breath. This, as his dad was fond of saying, was where the rubber meets the road.

Before Rey could say her next line, Luke interrupted.

“Excellent work, kids. But Captain Phasma here informs me that we are overdue for a break. That’s a ten, and we will pick it up from Polymestor’s exit.” 

Rey clambered down the back of Apollo’s head, pushing her rehearsal mask back from her face. She looked visibly relieved. Ben made his way across the stage. This next bit would be a challenge. The rest of Play 7 would be just the two of them.

“You should keep a hold of your script if you need it. We’ll just be marking this for blocking, no pressure.”

Rey met his eyes and let out a breathy laugh. “No pressure,” she deadpanned. “You are hilarious, Ben Solo.”

He hadn’t failed to notice that she always referred to him by his full name. He found it pretty goddamn endearing. 

“No, I'm serious. Bazine took forever to get offbook.”

The expression on Rey’s face changed suddenly, becoming guarded. _It’s as if she snapped the shutters closed, the way her eyes just go flat like that_ , Ben mused. But he found it strange. Surely she’d heard nothing but horror stories about Bazine. 

“I’ve got to - I’ll be back in a few minutes. Thanks for -” In lieu of finishing the thought, Rey gestured vaguely, her mouth set in a thin line, then turned quickly toward the dressing room.

_Shit. What did I do? Why is she upset?_

\-----

_Shit, why am I upset?_ Rey chastised herself, slinking out of the bathroom. Was it so wrong to admit that she was struggling with this next scene? That she couldn’t seem to get the words to stick in her brain, even with the blocking to help her? She’d mapped out the scene, analyzed the beats, done everything she could think of to get the lines and the emotions down. Nothing was working.

And for some reason, every time someone brought up Bazine Netal, she felt even worse. 

Out of curiosity, she’d gone down the Google Rabbit Hole looking up Bazine. There were whispers among the cast that she and Ben had been involved, and when Rey saw the photos of her predecessor - glamorous and model-thin, with prominent cheekbones and full lips and beautiful almond-shaped eyes - she believed it. They must have made a gorgeous couple. Bazine was Juilliard-trained, with an impressive IMDb page. Even if the rumors were to be believed, and she _was_ a diva, it seemed to Rey that she came by it honestly. 

Rey washed her hands and splashed her face with cold water, then regarded her face in the mirror. _Not very glamorous_ , she groaned, noting how her hair was coming undone and her chin was red where the rehearsal mask had irritated her skin. She couldn’t remember feeling quite so unattractive. _Not since college_...

Rey shook her head. She understood that Ben was trying to be supportive, not patronizing. That he was trying to make the best of an awful situation. Even if Rey _was_ “the awful situation” right now, she knew she needed to get it together, and letting the ghost of Bazine Netal haunt her was only going to make matters worse.

Rey squared her shoulders and returned to the theatre, deciding at the last moment to take Ben’s advice and pick up her sides for Play 7 on her way up to the stage. 

\-----

Phasma and Luke sat huddled at the director’s table, speaking in hushed tones. Rey and Ben had just finished a second run-through of their scene, this time without the benefit of a script in her hands. It did not go well. 

Rey knelt on the stage, silently berating herself. 

Ben stood, a little bit apart from her, silently berating himself. 

Neither of them had been able to find the right rhythm in the three-fifths iambic pentameter. Moments that had previously come easily to Ben were now completely gone. Rey’s cue pickup was excruciatingly slow, especially on the lines they were meant to share by splitting the pentameter between them. Both blamed themselves for the mistakes and missteps of the other. 

In a word, it was a mess.

Luke stood and made his way down to the lip of the stage. “Alright, kids. We are not going to belabor this further tonight. I’d like to move on to Rey’s final appearance in Play 9 as the Pythoness. Great good fun, that role!” Luke remarked with false cheer. “That should be an excellent way for you to finish the day, my dear.”

He removed his eyeglasses and huffed on them before rubbing them absent-mindedly on his shirt. “Call tomorrow is -” Luke turned to Phasma for confirmation. “Noon, yes?” 

At her nod of assent, he turned and addressed the rest of the cast. “We will start at the top of the show. I want to fix the mess with the Chorus at the end of the Prologue, so please don’t let me forget when we get to that.” 

Luke paused and stepped forward, lowering his voice and speaking only to Ben and Rey. “While we are working through the second half of Odysseus tomorrow, I want you two to find a secluded spot somewhere and do some...” He waved a hand over his head. “I don’t know, whatever you actors do. The scene is not working, I know you both felt that. Just fix it and bring it back, alright?” 

Luke stepped back again, and raised his voice to the rest of the cast. “So. If you are not in the Trial of Helen -” 

At this, there was a rustle of activity, and much of the cast started to retrieve their belongings in order to beat a hasty retreat before anyone changed their mind. Luke raised his voice above the noise.

“- _and_ the Captain says it’s alright, please enjoy your time affluence. I will see you all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at noon tomorrow.”

Ben tried to catch Rey’s eye as they moved into position for the final play of the night. She avoided meeting his eyes until the last moment. He nodded slightly and gave her what he hoped was a warm and supportive smile. She returned it with a tight nod of her own, her mouth set in a thin, straight line. She looked away and lowered her rehearsal mask.

“From the entrance of the Pythoness, please. Frantis, will you give Rey the cue?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, having Rey take over for an injured Jessika at the eleventh hour like this may strain credulity. I will just say a few things - for some people, memorization comes very easily. I find verse especially easy to retain as compared to prose. I've been brought in as late as tech week to take over a role, and it takes a certain combination of knuckling down and white-knuckling to get through. Being an understudy is incredibly challenging, since you have to learn the role more or less on your own without the benefit of rehearsal.
> 
> And theatre superstitions are real, y'all. After an ill-considered backstage chat about an upcoming production of Macbeth, or the Scottish Play, I went onstage, promptly lost a contact lens and then broke another actor's hand with a hammer because I had no depth perception.


	8. Chapter Eight

**_“Because what can you do with people that like you, except, of course, inevitably disappoint them?”_ **

_-Carrie Fisher_

Ben and Rey sit in folding chairs facing one another, alone on the empty stage of the Space Theatre, their knees just barely touching.

Following a difficult start - Rey means to be coolly professional but comes off as defensive, and Ben wants to be solicitous and caring but instead seems patronizing - they have assumed this position to read through the scene, slowly. It is... better. Not good, certainly. But better.

“So...” Ben murmurs, holding Rey's gaze. “What’s the story with this crazy Cassandra chick anyway?”

Rey smiles, her dimples appearing. Ben thinks he has not really seen her smile all week.

“Cassandra feels hard for me to wrap my arms around because she already knows the end of her story. She knew Troy would fall, she knew every bad thing that was about to happen, she told everyone and they wouldn’t believe her. She knows that she and Agamemnon are both going to die. Since the character knows exactly how their story ends, it’s hard for me to stay in the moment and not play the end of the scene. Or the end of the play.”

Rey pauses and rubs her solar plexus gingerly, her brow furrowing. “Damn it. I can literally feel where I’m holding all the fear.”

“Cassandra’s fear? Or yours?” Ben’s voice is gentle, surprisingly soothing.

“Is there a difference? I mean, she’s Agamemnon’s slave bride, there’s nothing left for her in Troy, and it’s not like she has a choice, but she goes willingly. And Cassandra is believed, for the first time in her life. By this man who should be her enemy. That almost makes things worse. She puts her trust in this man, knowing that because she loves him she will die. And because he loves her he will die. It’s like the stakes are simultaneously life and death and totally nonexistent.” 

“Can I ask you a question? You don’t have to tell me the answer, but I want _you_ to know what the answer is. For yourself.”

“Well, that’s cryptic as fuck, Ben Solo.”

“What are you afraid of?”

Rey’s smile is gone in an instant. The shutters snap closed behind her eyes again.

“I’m afraid of failing.”

“Everyone is afraid of failing, Rey. All the time. Hell, given your current situation, I’d say if you weren’t afraid of failing you’d be insane.” 

Ben leans forward in his chair slightly, increasing the contact between their knees. “I mean, what are you _really_ afraid of.”

Rey breaks eye contact, dropping her gaze and staring at his hands splayed across his thighs.

“As I said, you don’t have to -“

“No, I do. I have to say it.” Rey draws in a trembling breath. “I’m afraid of being alone. Really alone. Abandoned. By my mom, by Maz, even by Matt. Everyone leaves, so I don’t let anyone in.”

She raises her eyes to Ben’s. “That’s why I can’t understand Cassandra. She knows - she _knows_ it’s going to end badly, and she does it anyway. Willingly. Happily even.” 

“And so, to avoid feeling bad, you avoid feeling... good?” 

“Good is... complicated. I feel good, I do good, I _am_ good. But I won’t let anyone else make me feel good. It’s too... risky. I can’t relinquish control like that. Does that make sense?”

Ben’s gaze deepens slightly. “It makes perfect sense, Rey. I keep everyone at arm’s length. I never risk my -” Now it’s Ben’s turn to drop eye contact.

“Your what?”

“Never mind.” Ben runs a hand through his dark hair. “Do you mind if I make an observation?”

Rey lifts a single eyebrow in answer.

“You’re still holding on to your past.” Rey goes to answer but he continues. “I see it because I’m still holding on to mine. Anger at your parents for leaving you. Anger at my parents for shipping me off to another country. Fear that you will be left again. Or worse. Fear that I will be a disappointment. Or worse. We have to let go of the past. Both of us. And not just because it’s good for the scene.”

Ben reaches a tentative hand out and places it over Rey’s. Their eyes lock again for a moment, until Rey breaks the spell. “Because if we don’t let go we’ll both probably end up old and miserable?” 

Rey’s flippant tone of voice doesn’t match the pain he thinks he sees in her eyes. He realizes that behind the self-deprecation she means what she says. She truly believes that she will end up old and miserable and...

Ben’s grip on her hand tightens almost imperceptibly. “You’re not alone.”

Rey turns her hand, and for a moment he is sure she’s going to pull it away. Instead, she twines her slender fingers in his and squeezes back. “Neither are you.”

Ben feels something in his chest expand suddenly. _Rey isn’t the only one holding on to fear..._

He releases her hand, but continues to hold her gaze. “I want to try something. Do you trust me?”

Rey, to her surprise, does not hesitate. “I trust you.”

“Alright.” Ben draws in a deep breath and shifts in his seat. “I... I don’t know much about your training -”

He pauses at the strange look that ghosts across her face. “Did you do much voice work at school? I mean, you sound well-trained, I just -” Ben stops and runs his hand through his hair again

Rey thinks she could watch those big beautiful hands run through that gorgeous hair all day. But she decides to put him out of his misery. “I learned some Linklater.”

Ben nods, visibly relieved. “Good, good.” He’d studied the methods of the highly regarded Scottish voice and acting teacher at RADA, but he knows Linklater’s techniques are even more widely taught in the States. 

“Yeah, plus some Feldenkrais, some Alexander Technique. We were kind of all over the place,” Rey murmurs apologetically. “I even had an acting teacher who made my classmates beat me with pillows while I performed Sonnet 87 -”

“ _Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing.._.”

Rey looks at Ben with a mixture of surprise and comprehension. “Of course you know all the sonnets.”

“Not all of them, trust me,” Ben chuckles ruefully. “That one just happens to be a favorite. All the feminine line endings to the pentameter, it’s as though you can’t catch a breath, the emotions are too much...” He pauses, his brow furrowing. “But why did they beat you with pillows?”

“My teacher thought he could get me to cry. I was - well, in retrospect it was probably a mistake to pick that sonnet. It hit a little too close to home, all that shit about not being worthy, having to let someone go because you’re not good enough to keep them. It didn’t help matters that the guy I lost my virginity to was there in the room and -” 

Rey stops short. 

“Anyway, this acting teacher and I were really locked in a battle of wills the whole semester. It wasn’t until I started studying Linklater that I learned how to let the emotions flow through me without fighting them.”

Ben has... a lot of questions. Chief among them, why a teacher would ask her classmates to beat her up, even with pillows. And he wants to know more about this guy Rey slept with...

Rey interrupts him. “So, what do you have in mind, Ben Solo? I know we don’t have all day to rehash the ups and downs of my college career.”

“Right.” Ben straightens up even more in his chair. “You’ve used the technique of _dropping in_ , yes?”

“Oh, yeah. Not much, though... and not in a long time. At least four years.” 

Ben tries not to roll his eyes at what, for Rey, constitutes a _long time_. She catches the look anyway, and swats him good-naturedly on his thigh. His very muscular thigh. _Is there anyplace this man is not completely shredded?_

Rey forces herself to focus. “What do you have in mind, old man?”

Ben chuckles again. “Alright, so after the snow starts falling, and Cassandra is free of her visions, she talks about being _in the Now_.” 

Rey nods and Ben continues. “So, if you’re having a hard time staying in the moment, like you said, perhaps you can trust Cassandra to be in the moment for you.” 

Rey nods again and murmurs.

“ _Though the gods control_

_Our beginnings and our endings_

_The middle of the story_

_Is ours and it’s open_ ”

“Exactly. Iphigenia had it right, that’s why I quote her again in this scene. So let’s maybe try dropping in the word _Now_. See if that can be your... I don’t know, your touchstone, maybe?”

Rey does not reply, but she looks at Ben with dawning understanding and nods once more.

“Okay, close your eyes, soften your belly, your jaw, allow the breath in and feel it fill up -”

“My red balloon,” Rey whispers, a small smile playing across her face.

“Yes, your red balloon.” Ben smiles too. Kristin Linklater and her goofy visual aids. She’d had a colorful way of working, no question. 

“Now, start wherever you like.”

Rey does not say a line. Instead, she opens her eyes and lets out a richly musical laugh that seems to come from the very center of her. Ben knows instantly where they are in the scene. 

He says Agamemnon’s next line.

_Understood: the god has left you._

_You are free of him._

Rey speaks nearly over him, sharing the line of verse.

_Free..._

_For a while._

Ben shares the next line.

_Then it’s time_

_To wipe him away._

Rey closes her eyes again and tilts her head back.

_Then wipe away, war-man._

Ben reaches a hand toward her face. This will be the moment in the scene when he removes her mask.

_Now open your eyes and tell me_.

_Can you still prophesy?_

Rey’s eyes open and fix on Ben.

_No, I am in the Now,_

_Not in the past or the future._

Ben leans forward slightly.

_In the Now?_

Rey continues.

_So I call it._

_It is where all humans are._

“Good,” Ben whispers. “Again, from the same place.”

They start the dialogue again, keeping their eyes on one another. As Rey speaks her lines, she adds the word _Now_ to the end of each line, and then Ben starts to ask her questions.

“Where is now? 

“Now is here. Now.”

“Are you afraid of Now?”

“Now is fear. Now.”

“Is it now or never?”

“Never is now. Now.”

They continue like this for a minute more. Ben leans back in his chair finally. “Good, good. Let’s take it from the very top again.”

They begin the scene from Polymestor’s exit. As they go, Rey slowly becomes aware of the... absence of sound around her. The drone of the building's air ducts, the buzzing of the work lights overhead, it all seems to drop away. Her vision tunnels, and suddenly all she is aware of is the sound of Ben’s voice and the rhythm of his breathing.

_O all you gods that are,_

_Great ones and little ones,_

_Bless us on our journey_

_And take us safely home_

_That we may go on searching_

_And learn what we are born for._

_Sing no more to us of sorrow_

_But let the good prevail._

As Ben finishes the last lines of the scene, there is silence. They sit looking at one another for a moment more as if afraid to let it go. Rey releases a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, and dashes away a tear with the heel of her hand.

Ben breaks the silence. “Well. That should shut Luke Skywalker up.”

Rey’s face splits into a grin. 

Ben thinks he would be willing to do anything to make her smile like that.

\-----

Luke Skywalker was indeed pleased by the progress they’d made on the scene. He was not, strictly speaking, speechless. But after he’d given some general notes on the run-through, he took the unusual step of asking Phasma to address their cast.

“Alright, troops.” A number of the cast chuckled at this. Luke’s nickname for her - _Captain_ \- seemed to have stuck. “I realize the last six months have been a slog. And the last six weeks have been a death march. But we are off tomorrow. By which I mean, _you_ are off tomorrow. While the crew is here running the dry tech, I want you all to _really_ take the day off,” she looked pointedly at Rey, “and get some rest. Read. Go for a walk. Do some... what do you Americans call it? Self-care? I can only assume that means waxing various body parts.” Another chuckle, louder this time. 

Phasma rode the laugh, then continued. “This next week is going to be… challenging, for lack of a better word. The show itself is in very good shape, and I thank you all for that. I have done everything I could to this point to limit the amount of time you simply sat around waiting, and to make sure you were only called for rehearsal if we genuinely needed you. As of Tuesday, I regret to say that will no longer be the case. I promise you that no matter what else happens, you _will_ be sitting around. A lot. We have more than 250 light cues,15 tons of sand, three trapdoors, a live fire onstage, and we still haven’t figured out how not to drown Rey within the first ten minutes of the show.” More laughter, but this time decidedly uncomfortable.

“Our first preview audience is a week from Tuesday, and while we don’t have critics for another month, please bear in mind that there are people out there who hope we will fail. This is the largest undertaking most of us will ever be involved in. Like Tantalus and his mythical boulder, there is a metaphorical rock hanging over us. Having said that, I would encourage all of you to avoid reading press accounts or reviews of the show from this point on. It will only serve to distract you.”

Phasma jammed her hands into the pockets of her ubiquitous leather jacket. She looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable. 

“Trust me when I tell you that I have never been prouder to work with a group of actors in my life. To a man, you have adapted to monumental changes without complaint, you have been cheerful when you had every right to be grumpy, and you have put up with Luke’s off-color jokes.” 

Luke put his hand to his breast in mock offense as the cast laughed again.

“In any event,” Phasma crossed her arms across her chest, all business once more. “I want to see you all well-rested and in your usual fighting trim on Tuesday. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a date with a pint of Guinness at the bar across the way.” 

The cast stood and gathered their belongings, and Leia moved across the aisle to Rey’s side. “Now that was a far better locker room speech than mine.” 

Ben, who’d been bent over stashing his notebook in his bag, straightened and shot his mother a confused look. “Lovely work, both of you. That last scene in Play 7 is...” Leia paused, searching for and failing to find a synonym for _erotic_ that wouldn’t make her son gag. “Well, it’s lovely.”

Rey glanced at Ben, who was suddenly transfixed by the pattern on the carpet. “Thanks, Leia. Ben was... he gave... I mean, we worked on it. Sorry, I can’t seem to form words right now. My brain is mush.”

Ben looked up at her with what Rey thought might be disappointment. “We thought we might go over to the Galleria with some of the cast. But if you’re too tired...”

Leia’s eyes widened in surprise but she quickly schooled her features. Ben _never_ came out for drinks after rehearsal. She looked between Ben and Rey with renewed interest.

“Actually, I’d love to go. I am too wired right now to sleep, and a drink sounds... great. God, I really can’t talk right now.” 

Ben smiled down at her in a way that made her stomach flip. “You’re doing just fine.”

\-----

The cast walked in small groups toward the other side of the theatre complex, several peeling off to the parking garage with apologies and promises of rain checks. A handful continued on to the small bar in the lobby of the Galleria Theatre. The audience for the 7 pm show playing in the cabaret theatre inside was long gone, but a few of the revue’s cast members remained, nursing craft beers.

The portly bartender brightened visibly at the arrival of the _Tantalus_ cast. During a typical season, there would be audiences streaming back and forth all evening. This sure as hell wasn’t a typical season, and most of the theatres throughout the complex were dark right now. Other than regular visits from a few of the crusty older English actors, this cast hadn’t been in much over the last six months. And Enric and Frantis were terrible tippers. 

Leia led the way to a round table in the corner, and Ben, Rey and Luke joined her. Phasma, complaining loudly that she’d been sitting all day, chose to stand at the bar and hold court instead.

“I don’t suppose they have blue margaritas here?”

Rey laughed. “I can see if Artie has any blue curacao, Luke, maybe he’ll make you one on the rocks. But I must warn you, his blender is broken. It has been for the last several years, apparently,” she deadpanned before gathering everyone’s drink orders and sauntering off to the bar.

“Ben, I don’t know what you did, but bravo, my boy.” Luke slapped Ben cheerfully on the back. “Vast improvement to the scene, didn’t you think, Leia?”

Leia nodded but Ben shook his head. “Rey did all the work, I assure you. She is really...”

Luke plunged ahead, ignoring Ben’s reply. “I’ve never seen such raw talent before, the girl really is astonishing. Remind me to send Amilyn Holdo an egregiously large bouquet of flowers.”

Leia thoughtfully nodded in assent. “I agree, she’s like a creature of pure instinct, she doesn’t have any of the usual tics or tricks. No vanity, either. Lord, if I was her age, and looked like she does, I’d be the vainest girl alive.” Leia turned to Ben. “Speaking of looks, don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at Rey. It’s downright predatory -“

“Don’t be absurd, Leia.”

“Make no mistake, I’m not criticizing. I for one think you could only benefit from a real honest to god showmance. It’s how Han and I met and -“

“And look how _that_ turned out.”

“Oh, it turned out better than I had any right to expect. We got you in the bargain, didn’t we?” Leia’s eyes welled, but she shook off the sentiment. “And I may not see him much, but when I do...” Her voice dropped and she grinned lasciviously, “let’s just say Han Solo knows how to make up for lost time -“

“Please spare us the sordid details, Leia,” Ben groaned.

“Speak for yourself, my boy.” Luke leaned in. “Tales of Han’s swashbuckling derring-do never fail to entertain.”

Ben ignored his uncle. “Besides, even if I did date other actors - and I don’t, ever - you know that I would never allow romantic entanglements during a show.”

A voice behind him chimed in. “Agreed. Actors are... the worst.”

Three sets of eyes turned to Rey, deftly balancing four drinks in her hands. She refused their offers of assistance and passed Ben his beer and Leia her gimlet before handing a blue margarita to Luke with a slight bow and a look of triumph. 

Rey resumed her seat, holding her whisky and ginger. “I would never in a million years date an actor, I swore off them in college.”

Leia noted the strange expression that ghosted across her son’s face. “So, do you have someone special, Rey? Beautiful girl like you, I can imagine you have -“

“No one.” Rey interrupted quickly. Three pairs of curious eyes looked at her. “I mean, no one in particular. Not much free time.”

“Apologies, my dear, we have kept you inordinately busy these last few weeks,” Luke responded, taking a long swallow of his drink.

“Oh, I promise I’m not complaining. I love being busy. A month ago, I was working three different jobs and performing four nights a week.” Rey grinned broadly. “You might say I’m _less_ busy now.”

“Three jobs?” Leia asked. “Good lord.”

“It’s just not that unusual, I know plenty of people who need at least two jobs to make ends meet. Denver is expensive - not by New York or London standards, I’m sure - but there’s a ton of competition for good-paying jobs. Lots of people moving here for the weed and the skiing. And without a degree, it’s -” Rey stopped short. 

“And acting rarely pays more than a small percentage of the box office. So, yeah, I was waiting tables across the street there at Sam’s,” she nodded her head in the direction of the diner down the block, “and doing odd jobs at the TV station in Five Points, and working at a plumbing salvage and supply warehouse.”

“Which no doubt came in handy when you were fixing up your house,” Ben interjected, then turned to Luke and Leia. “Rey’s done a beautiful job with the renovations.”

“Finn helped a lot. And Poe. Well, Poe mostly supervised and made cocktails.”

Ben turned back to her. “Well, it really is beautiful. It feels more like a home than anyplace I’ve ever been. You should be really proud.”

Ben and Rey stared at one another for a long moment. Luke and Leia, for their part, exchanged a surreptitious but knowing nod.

Rey broke away from Ben’s gaze and turned to Leia. “So... I want to know more about the original _Kentucky Cycle_. What was it like to perform on Broadway?”

“Oh, there’s a story, let me tell you...”

Ben and Luke settled back in their chairs as Rey leaned forward. They could easily be here all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for those of you who may have skipped The Iliad, Cassandra is the daughter of King Priam of Troy - she gets crossways with the god Apollo, who is kind of an asshole; he gives her the gift of prophesy and the curse that no one will believe her, so everyone just treats her like she's insane. She's foreseen the fall of Troy, and she also knows that when she returns home with Agamemnon, his wife will have them both killed.
> 
> Ben and Rey are doing what's sometimes called "chair work" here. And the technique called "dropping in" is useful when you're not connecting with the text or with your partner. Or both. You pick a single word from the text and explore the sound and meaning of it until saying it becomes a visceral experience. Kristin Linklater was an amazing teacher; her seminal "Freeing the Natural Voice" was published in the 70's and is still widely used. I keep buying copies, and end up giving them away to non-actors. She passed away in June, sadly - and her son Hamish is an extraordinary actor.


	9. Chapter Nine

**_“I act like someone in a bomb shelter trying to raise everyone’s spirits.”_ **

_-Carrie Fisher_

To be fair, Phasma may have undersold the challenges of tech week. 

Tuesday’s cue-to-cue had revealed serious issues with the amount of power drawn by the lights, and Finn had to figure out a way to get additional amps from other parts of the complex. This was further complicated by the presence of the lighting designer, a very nice Japanese man named Sumio who did not speak a word of English, and his equally friendly translator Miyu, who did not speak a word of Electrician.

Wednesday’s attempt at a run-through of Part 1 revealed that there was, in fact, not enough room under the stage for Rey to enter through the pool wearing her mask without actually drowning. There was far too much noise when she got into the pool under the stage; Thetis needed to be in position when they called places before lights up, and then remain floating on her back for at least five minutes. There was just eight inches of clearance between the water and the stage over her head, and water kept pooling behind Thetis’ mask. Rey, to her credit, stayed calm throughout. The same could not be said for Finn - it was one thing to drown a random actor who no one really liked, quite another to drown Peanut.

In a panic, Finn begged Dionysis for an on-the-fly redesign of Thetis’ mask. No small feat, as each of the masks took Kevin and his team more than 30 hours to make. The designer cheerfully but unhelpfully suggested that _all_ of the masks could be scrapped. Luke, barely restraining his anger, managed to convince him that this was not an option. Dionysis capitulated, and worked with Kevin on a new mask, crafted quickly out of fine-gauge mesh instead of carbon fiber. It allowed Rey to breath, and by happy accident looked fantastic with the yards of silvery tissue fabric that made up her costume. Tabala had been a competitive synchronized swimmer in college, and showed Rey how to scull with her hands in order to move more quietly through the pool for her entrance. 

By Thursday, things were desperately behind schedule. As soon as one problem was solved, two more sprang up. Finn and Phasma played Tech Whack-a-Mole while the cast waited around. 

There wasn’t enough time for the Chorus and the ensemble to get to the dressing rooms to wash off their arms and legs after the battle scene - and not enough room for all of them to do so once they got there - so the running crew set up rows of plastic storage bins filled with warm water in the green room. A clever cast member dubbed this area "The Wetlands", which naturally necessitated signage. The cheerful "Welcome to the Wetlands!" sign was soon joined by amateur artwork and press photo caption contests. The walls were quickly covered with butcher paper Pictionary games, and the large, bored, inventive cast set about making themselves at home, devising all sorts of hilarious diversions to while away the hours of waiting.

So Rey avoided the green room at all costs.

It wasn’t that she was antisocial by nature, she reasoned. She just had a lot to focus on, and couldn’t afford to be distracted by the hijinks of dozens of bored cast members with nothing better to do.

So Rey couldn’t necessarily explain why she was currently laying on her back in the lobby, her head close to Ben’s head and their feet pointed away from one another, speaking in hushed tones like two girls at a slumber party afraid of being scolded by a sleepy parent. At least, she guessed this is what a slumber party would be like.

They were, ostensibly, running lines. And they _had_ run lines. Once.

And then she’d laid down, just to try and stretch things out and keep warmed up physically in hopes that eventually they’d be needed onstage. 

And then he’d joined her on the ground. And stayed there. It was simultaneously the weirdest and the most natural thing she thought she’d ever experienced.

Now they were chatting conspiratorially about a range of topics. They’d covered indie music in great depth. And politics, in less depth. They’d discussed favorite films, both good and bad, and vehemently disagreed regarding the oeuvre of Michael Bay. Rey thought him an underrated genius in the auteur mold, and Ben thought he was an overpaid, misogynistic hack. Each seemed prepared to die on that particular hill.

Somehow, the conversation had wandered into more unsafe territory. 

“So, tell me about this guy in college. The one who you...”

“The guy who popped my cherry?” Rey responded blithely. “Definitely not much to tell.”

“Did you... I mean, were you two... serious?” 

“Oh, god no. We never even went on a date. It just - well, I hadn’t dated at all in high school. My date to senior prom was a friend from another school that I’d met doing speech and debate. Quite gay, as it turned out. Needless to say, we had a total fucking blast." Rey chuckled at the memory, then shook her head. "Oh god, it sounds like a John Hughes movie. And then, in college, everyone made such a big deal about sex, and losing your virginity, and... I suppose I wanted to see what the fuss was all about. As I suspected, not much.”

“Sounds like he didn’t do it right.”

Rey snorted. “Oh, I don’t know. I mean, he seemed pretty confident about what he was doing. And then he started dating someone else right away, and he seemed to be keeping her satisfied -”

“Wait. This guy started dating someone else right away?”

“Okay, not right away. It was the next week.”

“Jesus, Rey...”

“No big deal. Really, we were never serious. We were never going to _be_ serious. But then I ended up having acting classes with them both, more or less on the daily for the next three years.” Rey shrugged. “And she was just so goddamn pretty.”

“Come on, Rey, you’re -”

“Oh, no, I’m not fishing for compliments, I swear,” Rey’s voice rose emphatically. “Jenny was _gorgeous_. And I was - god, it’s funny, I think back now on the roles I got in college. I was always cast as the girlfriend, or the arm candy, or the set dressing or... whatever, it always felt wrong somehow. I wanted to play the smart-ass friend, or the funny misfit with the glasses. I wanted to get all the laugh lines. And I suppose I was good-looking enough, in the way that all 20-year olds are attractive. But I never thought of myself as pretty.”

Ben nodded. “No, I get it. The Hot Character Actor Paradigm.”

Rey turned her head slightly. “The what, now?”

“The Hot Character Actor Paradigm. It’s my own pet theory. It happens a lot more in film than theatre, to be sure. And probably more often to women than men. It presupposes that there is an inversely proportional relationship between how attractive an actor is and how seriously they’re taken. Some actors have to get to a certain age before the paradigm shifts, for others it never happens and they are forced to bear the stigma of _Hot_ in perpetuity. Fortunately for me, it was never a problem. I was defined as a character actor of the not-Hot variety pretty much at the outset.”

“Please, Ben Solo, you’re -”

“And I am _also_ not looking for compliments. Trust me. These ears and this nose?”

“I like your ears. And I like your nose.” Rey paused. “And please do not get me started on your hair. I mean, what the hell kind of product do you use, anyway?”

Ben chuckled and murmured softly, “An old Organa family secret. You’d have to torture me to get me to reveal it.”

“Tempting,” Rey responded, even more softly. “Anyhoo... Matt and Jenny. Yeah, I just decided I wasn’t going to let myself be that vulnerable again. No more dating.”

“None?”

“Yup.” Rey popped the _p_ for emphasis. “I save all my more romantic impulses for the stage. Makes it easier to compartmentalize.”

Ben was silent.

“God, I don’t know what it is about you, Ben Solo. I never talk this much about myself, honestly. You must think I’m crazy.” Rey gave a quick, rueful laugh. “I’ve never even told Finn and Poe any of this. I suppose they’ve put things together, but -”

Ben interrupted. “Do you mean to tell me that you’ve only had sex once? And never dated at all?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Rey turned her head to look at him. “Not a big deal, really. I’m perfectly happy this way. I mean,” Rey paused and shifted uncomfortably, crossing her arms over her chest. “I know how to... take care of myself.”

Ben turned his head and looked at her. Their faces were so close. “I’m not sure... I don’t know why you feel like you _have_ to take care of yourself.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Ben’s voice dropped suddenly. “Oh, I _know_ what you meant.”

Rey tried and failed to suppress a shiver. 

She turned to face the ceiling again. “So what about you, Ben Solo? Got a girl across the pond? Or a boy? Maybe a matched set, one of each?”

“No, definitely not,” Ben laughed. “I haven’t dated anyone seriously in -” _ever_ , he thought. “A while,” he said. “And, just like you, no actors.”

“Yes, actors are the worst.” Rey uncrossed her arms again. “I don’t know, maybe dating anyone in the business would be hard. Finn and Poe manage, but they’re in such different disciplines, they sort of complement one another. Seems like it’s good to have someone who understands the demands. Is it the same for your parents? They’ve been married for a long time, right?” 

Now it was Ben’s turn to cross his arms uncomfortably. “They’re... yeah, I don’t know that it’s much of a marriage. My father is on the road most of the time. He could easily settle down in New York or LA where there’s plenty of work, but he hates being tied down. And my mother, she goes where the work is - Seattle, Chicago, Houston, wherever. Maybe she’d have preferred to make one of those places her permanent home, even if it meant booking fewer drama skits, as she calls them. If Han was there. Or if I was there, I guess. But I don’t know if he ever gave her that choice.”

Ben sighed, then continued. “I don’t know. Leia is as hard to pin down as Han, and just as stubborn. If she wanted to put down more permanent roots, she damn well would. And he would never say no to her. But I don't think they spend more than a month together in the course of a year. I guess it works for them. It’s just not... It’s not what I would want, if I ever found someone to share my life with... I’d want to share everything with them. I’d want to wake up next to them every morning, and fall asleep at night to the sound of their breathing, and...” 

Ben broke off. “Now who’s crazy. I never talk about myself this much. Hell, I’ve never even _thought_ about this before -”

Just as Rey was about to respond, Phasma poked her head out the door of the theatre. “If you two are done with,” she gestured vaguely, “whatever this is, we need you onstage.” She started to close the door but leaned out again. “Shit. Rey, don’t forget, you agreed to meet up with Beaumont Kin over the dinner break.” Phasma retreated once more, mumbling under her breath as the door closed behind her. “Christ on a cracker... forget my own damned head if it wasn’t...”

As they got up off the floor and gathered their belongings, Ben shook his head. “Watching Gwendolyn Phasma slowly crack up is probably the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Gwendolyn?” Rey sputtered. “Oh dear lord. I will never take her seriously again.”

She paused and put a hand on Ben’s arm. He stopped and looked down at her. 

“Ben, I... just... thank you for talking. And for listening. You’re a... good friend, Ben Solo.”

He tucked an errant hair behind her ear and smiled. “You’re a good friend too, Rey Sutton. Thanks for giving me an excuse to escape that green room. Dear god...”

They both laughed and entered the theatre, together.

\-----

“Alright, just so we’re clear. Phasma gave me twenty minutes for the interview, not a minute more. And I am terrified of her. So, do you want to eat first and then do it, or do you want to get some questions out of the way and then eat? Whatever you prefer...” Beaumont Kin looked across the booth at Rey expectantly. 

Rey gave a sympathetic nod. “Captain Phasma is... formidable. But I promise I won’t drop a dime on you if we lose track of time.”

“I am sure you won’t. Still. I wouldn’t put it past her to have the place wired. Spies everywhere.” Kin looked around guardedly. “Besides, I don’t want to take advantage. I know how little time you have right now, so I really appreciate you sitting down and doing this.”

“Well, I don’t see what the big deal is, but I am happy to talk.” Spots of color rose on Rey’s cheeks. “I just... I don’t really like talking about myself that much.” _Except to Ben Solo_. “I guess we can... I don’t know. Why don’t we just order and we can get your questions out of the way while we’re waiting for our food?”

“Sure, sounds like the perfect plan.” Their server came by for their orders, and then Kin popped his steno notepad open, smiling at Rey’s surprised expression. “Sorry, I am old-school. My dad was a reporter for the Denver Post as well and he insisted that I learn shorthand as a kid. It’s come in very handy as a theatre critic, much easier to take notes during a performance this way.”

“Yeah, I can’t believe those assholes over at the Post let you go. So goddamn shortsighted. How exactly did this town go from five theatre critics to, like... one?”

“We’re a dying breed. Thanks to the Interwebs, everyone's a critic now.”

“Yeah, but you were such a cheerleader for the theatre community. I mean, I loved the reviews every Friday but I always looked forward to your Sunday column. All the theatre gossip... births, weddings, deaths. So great.” Rey leaned back in the booth and grinned. “And that review of _Hurlyburly_ you wrote? The one set on 9/11?”

“Oh, god...”

“What was it you said? Something about debating whether to light your program on fire and hold it under the fire suppression sprinklers ‘til they went off? Oh my god, we laughed so hard. Poe said he wouldn’t even _mind_ getting a review that scathing if it was also that funny. Fucking brilliant.”

Kin shook his head. “Like that play isn’t problematic enough, why would you wanna go setting it on 9/11 for god’s sake?” They exchanged an eye roll and a laugh. “Alright, quit trying to distract me, Ms. Sutton. We aren’t here to talk about me.”

“Yes, terribly sorry, Mr. Kin. Please proceed.”

“So.” Kin peered at his notes. “Denver native, right?”

“Aurora. Right.”

“Damn few of us,” Kin noted somewhat ruefully. “And your family, they must be incredibly proud. Their little girl, plucked from relative obscurity to play a lead in what is arguably the largest theatrical enterprise ever undertaken in regional theatre history?”  
  


Rey’s eyes dropped to her iced tea. She thought the topic might come up, but hadn’t counted on broaching it right out of the gate. She was suddenly very intent on the proper lemon to sugar ratio in her drink. 

“You make it sound like the plot of a bad Hallmark movie.”

“I would argue that there is no such thing as a bad Hallmark movie, Ms. Sutton.”

Rey smiled wanly. “Agree to disagree, Mr. Kin.”

_Maybe a little white lie… Finn and Poe and Kaydel and Rose count, don’t they?_

“Yes, my family is very proud.” Rey murmured.

“Are they still here in Denver?” 

_What the fuck with this guy_? “Yes. I mean... No, they’re...not here anymore.”

“But I’m sure they’re planning to come and see the show.”

Rey was starting to panic a little. “They’re... it depends how bad I am in the show, I guess?”

Kin laughed. “If early reports are to be believed, I don’t think that will be a problem. You’ve certainly won Phasma over. You know, I’d love it if you could put me in touch with your folks. I think a quote from them would really add to the piece. And maybe... I don’t know, one of your professors up in Boulder? That’s where you got your degree, I understand.”

_This went off the rails in a hurry._

Rey smiled tightly. Kin was momentarily distracted by the arrival of their salads.

“Can I - shit, Beaumont. Can this be... I don’t know, ‘off the record’?”

“What? I...” Kin looked thoroughly confused. “First of all, call me Beau, or Kin. My mother is the only one allowed to call me Beaumont. And Leia...” he amended. “And second of all, of course we can talk off the record. I’m not an investigative journalist, I’m an arts reporter. But why -“

“I don’t have any family and I don’t have any degree and I just don’t like talking about it.” Rey blurted out in a rush, then took in the shocked look on Kin’s face. 

“Shit, sorry. I... I don’t mean to come off as rude. I just don’t want this to be a ‘Little Match Girl’ kind of thing. I’m an orphan, I had a foster mom, she died before my junior year of college and I had to leave school. That’s it.”

“Rey, I -” Kin reached across the table.

“No, I’m sorry, it’s not a big deal. No one knows except a few friends. It’s just that... I don’t know, being surrounded by all these flawlessly trained professional actors, I’m... I just feel a little out of my depth.” Rey fiddled with the salad on her plate. 

“Rey, I had no idea, I’m so sorry.”

_This is exactly why I avoid telling people_ , Rey groaned to herself. She hated the look of pity on Kin’s face.

Kin sensed her discomfort and cleared his throat. “Tell you what. Let’s focus more on the ‘plucked from obscurity’ angle. So Luke and Leia saw you in Poe Dameron’s show over at the Civic, right?”

“And Ben,” Rey added, and then wondered why. That was hardly a salient detail. But it was _important_. She shook the thought from her head, and proceeded to tell Kin about the evening at El Noa Noa, complete with blue margaritas and Kaydel’s smoking. She had him laughing by the end of it.

“Poor Kaydel, she’s dreading the smoking ban. She says she has entire characters based solely on smoking and she’s not sure she can act without a cigarette in her hand onstage. She’s threatening to quit outright.” Rey and Kin laughed again.

“And you and Poe work together frequently, of course. I loved that gender-blind production of the Scottish Play you guys did in that creaky little theatre in Wash Park. You played Banquo, as I remember?”

“Oh, god, you saw that? Thank you for not reviewing it then. Or hitting the fire alarm. What a mess. But I had a blast, I got to fight with this enormous claymore...”

“No, I really did love the show. I thought you were... I thought you made a really sexy Banquo.” 

‘Well... thanks, I guess? I ended up creating this whole backstory where Banquo is really attracted to Macbeth and... let’s just say there was a lot of subtext to play. Probably not what Poe intended when we started, but who’s to say it’s not what Shakespeare wanted?” 

Kin nodded. “Oh, that read. Trust me. It looked like you and Lady Macbeth wanted to tear each other apart.”

“Oh god, poor Emily. She was so pissed off the whole time, it’s like she was in a different production altogether. A better one, probably, but definitely not the same show we were doing.”

They laughed again and Rey took a final gulp of iced tea. “Poe has a lot of plans for next year, you should talk to him about what they’re trying to do over at the Civic.”

“Oh, I will, trust me.” Kin picked up the check off the table and gathered his things. “I should have plenty to get started on this. And look, I am really sorry if I brought up anything... well, anything painful. It was definitely not my intent to hurt you.”

“Please, I’m totally fine. How could you have known any of that?” Rey got up from the booth and grabbed her own bag. “Like I said, I just don’t think I’m very interesting.”

“That’s... definitely not true,” Kin replied ruefully. “ _Definitely_ not. But I understand your reluctance to talk about your past, and I will certainly respect your wishes. Would have made one helluva story, though.” 

Kin stopped at the door and turned back to Rey. “And please don’t tell Phasma that we talked longer than our allotted time. I’m genuinely afraid of her.”

Rey glanced at Kin, who didn’t really look all that afraid. In fact, he looked... Rey’s eyes widened. “Then why are you grinning right now, Beaumont Kin? Do you... are you pining for our beloved Captain Phasma?”

Kin didn’t reply, he just blushed. 

“Your secret is safe with me,” Rey whispered dramatically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tech week is always a grind, even under ideal circumstances. I cannot imagine what the cast and crew went through on this one. But the issues with Thetis' entrance were real, even if my solutions to them are purely fictional. And Philicia Saunders, who played Tabala Zo in TFA and TROS, was a nationally ranked synchronized swimmer at Princeton.
> 
> As a longtime fan of Star Wars, one of the things that resonates with me in the sequel trilogy was how human Han and Leia are. Their failings as a married couple - and as parents - are only hinted at, but it's hard not to see the ripple effects and I wish things could have been different.
> 
> And the writer on whom Kin is based? He definitely wrote that Hurlyburly review. HIlarious. I give him shit about it to this day.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: reference to past child abuse  
> Thanks as always to my beloved Bunny, Notquitegreylo, for the beta. I adore you beyond all reason...
> 
> Ben Solo's high-waisted pants make their first appearance.

**_“I don’t want to make anyone else look stupid. That’s a privilege I reserve for myself.”_ **

_-Carrie Fisher_

The rest of tech week dragged, the monotony broken only by increasingly frequent stealth missions to the lobby with Rey. Ben was beginning to wonder just how awful this last week would have been if he'd been forced to spend it with Bazine. Or, if he was truly honest with himself, if he’d had to spend it with anyone but Rey. 

She was funny, and smart, and intoxicatingly sexy, and... completely, refreshingly unaware of her charms. Ben thought he’d never met an actor who was so self-aware onstage and so completely oblivious offstage. It was part of what he found so attractive about her, really: she clearly didn’t care if he found her attractive.

And during today’s tech dress, when Cassandra had thrown off her coat and revealed the tiny yellow slip dress Dionysis had chosen, Ben was legitimately concerned that he might pass out. The speed with which the blood rushed from his head to his groin was startling and unprecedented and frankly dangerous. He’d been grateful that the folds of his own costume sufficiently hid his discomfort. The way the silk caressed her small pert breasts and flowed down her flat stomach to her well-muscled thighs. And then, she’d turned and flung her arms wide and he’d seen that peachy ass of hers...

Ben silently cursed Dionysis for putting Rey in that tiny costume. To be fair, it was the same dress Wrobie wore as Iphigenia in Play 3. But, Ben reasoned, Iphigenia was his daughter, about to be sacrificed. Cassandra was his slave, about to be his lover. The circumstances were different. Still, no amount of rationalizing could explain why Ben was, for the first time in his life, aroused by the sight of another cast member onstage.

_This is going to be a long, long run_ , Ben groaned.

\-----

_This is going to be a long run_ , Rey sighed, taking in the sight of Ben in his first appearance as Agamemnon. 

He was shirtless, wearing high-waisted, skin-tight black pants that hugged the curves of his well-muscled ass and thighs, circled by a thick leather belt, with shiny red greaves that came up to his knees. He was, in a word, gorgeous. Rey’s mouth went dry as she took in his broad, muscular shoulders and massive pecs, imagining what it would feel like to rest on his chest, panting and exhausted, after...

_What the hell is wrong with me_? Rey groaned. Ben was wearing a lot more than poor Hux, after all - in his first appearance as Achilles, he emerged from a trap door in the sand wearing nothing more than a dance belt and head-to-toe blue paint. But she was playing Hux’s mother, Rey reasoned, and Ben was playing her lover. Completely different given circumstances. 

So why, for the first time in her life, was Rey so aroused by the sight of a cast member onstage? Sure, she’d sometimes pleasured herself to the images of other men from other plays she’d done, although more frequently to characters in films. But always the character they played, and not the actor. Macbeth in the Scottish Play, definitely not Brad. Colonel Brandon in _Sense & Sensibility - _or better still, the Sheriff of Nottingham - and not Alan Rickman. Although, looking back, Rey realized that she definitely had... a type. Tall, dark, brooding Byronic types. Typified by their large noses...

Rey snort-laughed, and drew a look of surprise from Ben. She shook her head and returned her attention to the notes Phasma was giving them.

“Troops, excellent work this week, in the face of challenges both totally expected and completely unforeseen. I appreciate the good humor you’ve all demonstrated. I would ask you all to redouble your efforts to remain focused for the next two dress rehearsals. Remember, we start previews on Tuesday. The good news is that our days will be significantly shorter, with only three plays a night. But we will have audiences, and I am told that the previews are completely sold out.” 

“As always, should something go wrong either onstage or off, I will call ‘hold, please’ until we can fix the issue. Luke will be giving a curtain speech to that effect during previews, and I want you to keep this in mind. Yes, these are paid audiences, but we are still working on the show. This next month is about you, not them. Reviews are embargoed until we open in October, and even then - I reiterate - please, do not read them. It’s a waste of time and energy. Luke and I are the _only_ critics with whom you need concern yourselves.” Phasma paused and smiled. “And these two critics are very pleased.”

Phasma continued with notes, singling out Larma for her excellent work as Hecuba, and reminding Enric not to carry too much of his energy as Tyndareus into the next scene as Peleus. “It’s not enough to rely on the masks to differentiate them, Pryde. Try some different vocal choices. And Wrobie, excellent work making Iphigenia and Electra so distinct. I’m looking for more of that from your Hermione. And find the love, alright?” Wrobie nodded in understanding at the vague note. After six months of rehearsal, Phasma didn’t need to explain things in great detail, and the cast had a shorthand for these things.

Rey’s brow furrowed. Ben caught it and leaned over. “I’ll explain later,” he murmured into the shell of her ear. She suppressed a shiver.

Phasma consulted her notepad and tapped absentmindedly on the top of her head with her pen. “I believe that’s all I have. Luke, anything to add?”

Luke remained seated in the front row. “No, my dear. As always, you’re very thorough. But I would echo Phasma’s sentiment regarding the preview audiences. They are here for your benefit, so use them. Find out where the laughs are - gods know we’ll need them - and also where we’re losing their attention. You all know that sound from an audience by now, the distinct rustling and shifting in their seats. At the same time, don’t get in your heads about it. It’s only a play.”

The cast chuckled. It had begun to feel less like a play and more like a forced march, but that was the nature of tech rehearsals. Rey was looking forward to the coming week. As ill-prepared as she felt, and as terrifying as she found the idea of an audience, she wanted very much to get back to... well, to acting. It was impossible to maintain momentum and energy and anything resembling an emotional through-line when you were constantly holding for an adjustment to a light cue or something. 

And Play 7. She was looking forward to that most of all.

“Alright, troops. Go home and get some rest. Noon call tomorrow, and we’re shooting for a one o’clock go. Much depends on how quickly we can cover Hux’s buttocks with blue paint.” 

“Dear, sweet Hux. Not since Brad Pitt have we seen a lovelier embodiment of Achilles.” Enric exclaimed. “I’d be more than happy to assist with the paint application if you like.”

“I do not like,” Hux sniffed. “I do not _like_ at all.”

With another laugh, the cast stood and got ready to depart. 

“Ben, would you -” Rey hesitated and put a hand on his arm. “Do you maybe want to go and grab a drink? Explain that whole ‘find the love’ business?”

“Yes, definitely. Let’s... um, should we look for someplace a little quieter than the Galleria Bar? I’ve spent enough time with Enric and Frantis for a lifetime this week.”

“Oh god,” Rey laughed. “Same. Do you want to just... I don’t know, do you want to come up to the house? I feel like I’ve barely gotten the chance to enjoy my new deck, and this warm weather won’t hold for long and I -”

She stopped and looked up at Ben, noting the strange expression on his face. Her chest tightened, right behind her solar plexus. Fear. Why did she feel _fear_?

“No, I’m sorry, never mind. I’m on my bike, and you don’t have a way to get there, and -”

“Rey,” Ben interrupted, “It’s fine, really. I have my road bike over at the apartments, just give me a minute to retrieve it and we’ll be on our way.”

“Your... _road bike_?” Rey goggled in disbelief. “This whole time, you’ve been a dirty stinkin’ roadie and you’ve kept it from me? How will I ever trust you again?”

“A dirty what, now?” Ben laughed as they left the theatre. 

“Roadie! At least that’s what the kids in my neighborhood called the people on their expensive road bikes. Let me guess, you wear a bike jersey like you’re an elite sponsored athlete -”

“Rey, come on! I’m offended you would even suggest such a thing. No, I use one to commute around London - traffic is a nightmare there, and a road bike is a lot lighter and easier to carry around and stash in the back of a theatre. I brought it here thinking that I’d get a chance to use it more, but I hardly have the time to -”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tease you. I’m just... I guess I’m surprised you have a bike.” Rey grinned broadly. “Go grab it and I’ll meet you out in front of Brooks Towers, alright?”

“It’s a date,” Ben replied, then instantly reddened. “I mean, it’s not a date, it’s -”

“Ben, just _go_!”

\-----

“All I’ve got is whiskey,” Rey called from the kitchen. “Sorry, I don’t drink beer, so I never keep it on hand.”

“Whiskey is perfect, actually. Just on the rocks with a splash.” Ben appeared, looming in her doorway. Rey was suddenly reminded just how small her house really was.

She grabbed their drinks and a bowl of pretzels left over from the cast party. “Let’s go out back, shall we?”

Ben followed behind, grabbing the bottle of whiskey on his way through the kitchen.

Rey retrieved a couple of blankets from the corner of the deck and settled on the loveseat, throwing one to Ben as he stretched out on the long couch facing her. “So, what was all that about ‘finding the love’?” she asked, tucking the blanket over her lap. “I can usually track what everyone’s talking about, or at least enough to fake it ‘til I can get home and Google it.”

Ben chuckled. “No, I’m not surprised that a young whippersnapper like you has never heard the term.”

Rey rolled her eyes and took a sip of her drink.

“It’s actually something Leia brought to the rehearsals. This old casting director from the 60’s and 70’s - Shurtleff was his name - he wrote a book called ‘Audition’, I guess it was really popular in the 80’s here in America.”

Ben took a swallow of his drink and hummed appreciatively. He paused to take a look at the bottle. It was a bourbon from Kentucky he hadn’t heard of.

“Anyway,” he continued. “Shurtleff came up with these... um, guideposts, he called them, for acting. Basically a way for actors to quickly identify things about a scene that would help them in an audition. A lot of common sense stuff, really. Identify the conflict, establish a strong sense of place and the moment before the scene happens. But his first guidepost is ‘find the love’. You know, decide what the relationship is and what the stakes are for keeping that relationship going.”

Rey nodded, and snuggled deeper under her blanket, and she and Ben proceeded to spend the better part of the next two hours drinking Corner Creek and enthusiastically discussing all manner of esoteric acting theories. Rey couldn’t remember if she’d ever had a more entertaining conversation about a less engaging topic. Ben had such a command of it all, from Artaud and Grotowski to Meisner and Adler. He answered her questions without making her feel stupid for asking, and in return asked for her opinions and experiences in a way that made her cheeks flush with pleasure.

Ben swallowed down the last of his whiskey with a smile. “God, I’ve never talked this much about acting. What has gotten into me, I usually _detest_ talking about craft -“

Rey interrupted Ben with a look of embarrassment. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Ben, I -”

“No,” Ben hurriedly replied. “That’s just it. I’m really enjoying talking about it. With you. I mean, I suppose this excellent Kentucky bourbon isn’t hurting...”

“It was an opening night gift from Finn. I’ve been saving it for a... well, I don’t know what I’ve been saving it for. It’s nice to share it with someone who appreciates it.” Rey smiled at Ben. “Trust me, I’m strictly a bottom-shelf, handle-of-whiskey kind of girl. I could get spoiled drinking this.”

“Rey, you deserve to drink nothing but the finest bourbons.”

“Yeah, right.” Rey shifted uncomfortably on the loveseat, and then folded her legs to the side. “Thank you for hanging out with me tonight and -”

“And drinking all your good bourbon.”

“- _and_ talking shop with me. God, it’s times like this when I feel most like an imposter, when people start throwing around these ideas, and it’s like they’re speaking in a secret code for a club I’m not cool enough to join.” Rey took another sip of her drink, and gave him a small smile. “I really do appreciate... I mean, I guess this is what most people spend their time doing in college, right? When you’re being bombarded with all these different theories and practices and you’re trying to make sense of it all and figure out what works for you.”

“I guess so,” Ben murmured. “I didn’t really... socialize much in school, so I’m not a trustworthy source.”

Rey’s smile grew until dimples appeared. She was constantly surprised by just how much they had in common, for all their differences.

“Actors are the worst, Ben Solo.”

“We are, aren’t we?” Ben looked at his empty glass and then at his phone. “Shit, Rey. It’s almost 2 am. I totally lost track of time. How did we end up talking this long?”

“Oh, I am sorry, I didn’t mean for it to get so late, and... there’s no way I’m letting you bike through my neighborhood to the light rail stop at 2 in the morning, Ben Solo. And definitely not on that expensive bike of yours, you’ll never make it back downtown in one piece.” Rey stood up breathlessly. “You have to stay here.”

“... _a_ _nd there was only one bed_...”

“No, Ben, I’m being serious. You can sleep in Maz’s room - the guest room, I mean. It’s a king-sized bed. Maz had a... she called him an ‘off-again/off-again boyfriend’, a really big guy named Chuy, he insisted on buying it for her, it’s all made up, no one ever sleeps there, and -” Rey broke off. “Sorry. I’m rambling. I’m just -”

“Rey, if I make you nervous staying here, I can call a cab and get back downtown -”

“No! I mean... no, I’m not nervous, I just... you’re my _friend_ , Ben Solo, of course you don’t make me nervous. I only -” Rey took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Just so you know, according to Finn and Poe, sometimes I talk in my sleep. And I’ve definitely been known to sleepwalk. I had a foster dad who tied me to a bed frame to keep me from wandering off in the night.”

“God, Rey, that’s -” Ben didn’t know what to say. He swallowed uncomfortably.

Rey saw his stricken look. “Oh, no! I think he meant well, really. At the time I was sort of glad that someone cared enough about my safety to take such drastic measures.” Rey continued, picking up the empty glasses and the nearly empty bottle of bourbon. “I just thought I should give you fair warning. I’m a pretty restless sleeper, especially after I’ve been drinking, and I just didn’t want you to think there was something... wrong.”

“Thanks for the heads up, Rey. I’m a terrible sleeper myself. I totally understand.”

_Of course you understand_ , Rey mused. She found the degree to which this man seemed to understand her downright terrifying.

“Come on, let’s get you settled in for the night, Ben Solo. Long day tomorrow, and I have a feeling we’re both going to be desperately hungover.”

“Lead on, Macduff.”

“Oh, I am _not_ going to tell Gwendolyn Phasma that you quoted the Scottish Play. She will straight up murder you.”

They made their way into the house, laughing. Together.

\-----

Rey awoke to the sound of an alarm - _not hers_ \- in a bed - _also not hers_ \- and the strange sensation of an arm slung protectively over her waist. She blinked in confusion for a moment or two, and then the panic set in.

She looked down and noted with relief that she was still in her pajamas, which she was glad she’d had the foresight to wear last night. But she was in Maz’s room - the guest room. In bed. With Ben. He stirred awake, and she held her breath. 

What was that behind her? She reached back hesitantly with one hand and felt - a pillow. 

During the night, Ben had apparently placed a pillow between them, and then reached around it - _and her_ \- with one huge arm. And held her fast.

“Good morning, Rey Sutton. I trust you slept well?” Ben murmured as he reached past her to silence his phone. He settled back again, his breath ghosting her neck as he laid down.

Rey rolled onto her back and regarded him blearily. “What the fuck happened here, Ben Solo?”

Ben smiled, then fixed a serious expression on his face. “I shall do my best to reconstruct the events of the evening. I can only assume you were somnambulating during the night, and your peregrinations brought you here to my bedchamber.” 

Rey snorted derisively. He ignored her, continuing. “My attempts to rouse you were ineffectual, but I was able to coax you into bed. Whereupon you fell into a deathlike slumber. I placed this pillow betwixt the two of us, ever cognizant of your virtue,” this earned another snort from Rey, “but equally concerned for your safety, I determined that the best course was to restrain you thusly.”

“Ever the gentleman, Ben Solo. My virtue and I thank you,” Rey laughed. “But I am so sorry I woke you up. God, I am completely ridiculous, I’m like a 10-year old.”

“Rey, you are nothing like a 10-year old, I promise you.”

Rey turned to him curiously, but his face was impassive.

“I used to sneak down and crawl into Maz’s bed on nights when I got... when I had bad dreams. Sorry, I must have -”

“Hey, Rey.” Ben murmured, brushing a hand gently across her cheek before placing it under her chin. “It means more than I can tell you that you trust me, that you feel safe with me.”

His hand moved up to ruffle her hair. “And if you want me to snuggle you like your foster mom did, I am happy to oblige.”

Rey sat up with a laugh. “God, you are so much more ridiculous than I am, Ben Solo.” She swung her legs out of bed and headed for the kitchen. “Come on, the least I can do is make you a big boy breakfast!”

Ben remained in bed as she left, tentatively moving the pillow away from his midsection. He was going to need just a few moments more, evidently.

\-----

Ben was used to a bit of yogurt and granola, perhaps a piece of fruit to start his day. Rey took breakfast rather more seriously, it seemed. After offering him a cup of coffee and the first turn in the shower, Rey laid out a staggering amount of food. 

“My god, Rey, there is enough here to feed three or four high school football players during two-a-days.”

“Well, it’s the least I can do for getting you drunk and taking advantage of you,” Rey laughed and served him a generous portion of eggs and chorizo. “And I’m not much of a cook, but -” She paused, her spoon in midair, looking stricken. “Shit, you’re not a vegetarian, are you? Or a vegan? Shit.”

“No, it’s fine. I was vegetarian for a while, and then a pescatarian. I fell off the wagon when we were doing the Wars of the Roses, and I’ve been a meat eater ever since.”

Rey sighed with relief and poured him another cup of coffee. “Oh, good. Maz always said there’s nothing better for a hangover than a greasy breakfast.” She topped off her own cup and looked up at him. “It’s weird, though. I don’t feel that bad. In fact, I feel... good. Well-rested, I mean.”

“Me too, Rey Sutton. Even though I was startled awake in the middle of the night by a strange woman in my bedroom,” Ben grinned until his dimples appeared. “I can’t remember sleeping so well.” 

_Ever,_ he thought. “And mad respect to your friend Chuy - that is one comfortable goddamn bed.”

Rey let out another laugh at this. “Chuy is a man who knows what he likes. That mattress is probably the most expensive thing in this house. I tried to get him to take it back after... when Maz was gone, but he refused.” Rey shook her head and stared down at her coffee. “Said they hadn’t been able to use it much themselves, and I should enjoy it.” 

“I was going to ask, why is it that you don’t sleep down here?”

Rey shook her head again, more emphatically this time. “My space is upstairs. It’s got everything I need. I’m... I mean, I don’t need -”

“Rey, you don’t have to explain. This is your house, you should sleep wherever you’re most comfortable. I just wondered.”

Ben paused and took a long sip of coffee. “Just be aware that I am going to take advantage of your big-ass empty king-size guest bed again soon. Makes that lumpy mattress at the apartments feel like a medieval torture device.” 

“Any time, Ben Solo. Any time. Just be aware that I might end up there with you and you’ll have to build another pillow fort to protect my innocence.” 

With that, Rey turned toward the bathroom and shut the door behind her with a melodramatic flourish, the echo of her laughter in Ben’s ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, often a play will have just a few "previews", maybe as much as a week or two - they're still officially a dress rehearsal, but with steeply discounted tickets or invited audiences. The Denver Center did nearly a month of them for this show.
> 
> Apologies for the road bike shade - bicyclists in Colorado are notoriously bad at sharing the road. Then again, so are the drivers. Authorship of this particular phrase belongs to my husband, who rides road bikes but calls everyone else names.
> 
> Michael Shurtleff's book "Audition" was a staple in acting classes during the 80's - it's kind of a time capsule now, but he was credited with discovering Elliott Gould, Barbra Streisand, Gene Hackman, Dustin Hoffman, and Bette Midler.


	11. Chapter Eleven

__ **_"He looked like he didn’t care whether or not you looked at him, so you watched him not caring, hungrily.”_ **

_-Carrie Fisher_

The cast and crew settled into a familiar routine over the course of the next few weeks. Previews were running - well, not _smoothly_ , in the strictest sense of the word - but they were running. Problems were not infrequent, but the running crew stayed on top of things and Phasma noticed that an issue rarely occurred twice.

Luke and Phasma had divided the cycle into thirds for the run and the previews featured only one part per night. Part One was running a tight two and half hours, and Part Two was a damn sight longer, with the Fall of Troy and whatnot, at almost three and half. She was confident they could tighten up the running time before opening, but it took Ben so damn long to do everything on those damned stilts. 

And then there was Part Three. It was running around three hours, but somehow it felt much shorter to Phasma. And Play 7 was coming along very well... Phasma noted with both surprise and relief that Rey had far exceeded her expectations. Her callous, somewhat cruel early assumptions about Rey - possibly informed by the dreadful experience she’d had with Bazine - caused her no little shame in retrospect. Phasma would happily admit that Luke’s instincts were right, and furthermore, that hers were wrong. Rey was a find, no question about it.

Still. Roughly nine hours of performance - twelve hours with breaks - twice a week with only a day off between. Phasma hoped she could keep her actors healthy and her crew sane for the duration of the run. She knew she’d never be able to manage the reverse - a sane cast and a crew that wasn’t at death’s door was too much to ask, even for her.

\-----

“Well, at least we don’t have to get into makeup?” Rey noted optimistically as she rolled her hair into pin curls. Taking in Hux’s thunderous expression, she added, “Sorry, Hux. Most of us don’t.” 

Rey sipped her energy drink and looked around the shared dressing room. As principles, each of the eight actors had a small private room of their own. However, as Wrobie had observed, “there’s not enough room in here to change your mind”, so the principles spent most of their time backstage together in the larger dressing room. 

It felt strange to Rey to skip the usual pre-show ritual of hair and makeup, but she spent the first five minutes or so floating in warm pool of water, and the rest of the night in a mask with an attached wig, so there was no point. She glanced at the reflection of Ben, seated at the opposite row of mirrors with a green juice and his script. She smiled at him, but got no response. _He probably just didn’t see me_ , Rey thought, ignoring the telltale squeezing in the center of her chest.

There had not been a repeat of last Saturday night. Not that there’d been time or opportunity, Rey reasoned. She hadn’t seen much of him offstage now that they’d settled into the rhythm of previews, and since the lobby was full of audience members awaiting curtain, there was no chance for them to sneak off like a couple of truants. He’d taken to disappearing immediately after notes every night, and...

Now that Rey thought about it, he hadn’t actually spoken a single word to her offstage since Sunday. All at once, tears stung behind her eyes and she struggled to push down the feeling of panic that welled within her. She hurriedly grabbed her Thetis mask off the dressing table and rushed from the room, ignoring the look of concern Tabala gave her.

She scrambled into her tiny dressing room and shut the door behind her just in time. Tears prickled behind her eyes as she crumbled into her chair. _God, what the hell is wrong with me_? she chided herself. Obviously she was exhausted, physically and emotionally, by the unrelenting pace of the last month. That was definitely all this was. She absolutely never cried offstage, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to start now. It wasn’t the first time Rey had been ignored or overlooked, she was used to it by now. 

Why did the slight feel so different coming from Ben? Things had been going well, she was sure of it. She felt so connected with him onstage, and she felt so comfortable with him offstage. He must feel it too. They were friends, weren’t they? Or had she imagined it all? God, when she thought about the things she’d told him, things she’d never even shared with Finn or Poe...

There was a quiet knock on her door. “Rey, love… it’s Tabala. Just seeing if you’re alright?”

Rey drew in a trembling breath and fought to make her voice sound normal. “I’m fine, thanks. Just needed a moment to myself.”

“No worries. We just got our half hour, the house is open. I’ll -” Tabala paused, and then changed her mind. “I’ll see you out there, yes?”

“Definitely!” Rey responded as brightly as she could manage. She listened for Tabala’s footsteps down the hall and then slumped in her chair. 

She was touched by the show of concern. And also slightly curious - she wouldn’t put it past Phasma to order everyone to keep vigilant for signs of Rey freaking out under the pressure and losing her shit. She was still the unknown quantity, after all. That thought made her smile in spite of herself.

_Honestly, Rey, you gotta get it together here_. These sudden mood swings out of left field, and tears that she knew were as much from anger and frustration and exhaustion as from hurt; she could see how ridiculous it was now. She’d put herself firmly in the Friend Zone with Ben, right from the get-go. And he’d done the same, hadn’t he? And if Ben’s version of the Friend Zone now entailed simply acting professionally and… well, _acting_ , then Rey could do that, too. If she missed just spending time with him, then that was her shit to deal with. She was in no position to ask Ben for anything, and he’d made no promises. Just a vague threat to commandeer her guest bed, no doubt said in jest.

Rey stood, rolled her shoulders and grabbed her mask, then strode down the corridor toward the trap room for her first entrance, her silvery Thetis costume flowing dramatically behind her. 

\-----

Ben stood leaning against the wall outside the dressing room, watching Rey as she disappeared down the hallway. 

_God, she’s beautiful_ , he mused, his brow furrowing. 

_And I am fucked._

The last week had been torture. He’d forced himself to avoid Rey, not trusting himself to continue being friendly and professional when all he really wanted to do was tear her clothes off and kiss every inch of her lovely, freckled body. The sight of her in his bed, hair mussed from sleep and wearing the world’s tiniest shorts and a scrap of camisole, had nearly undone him.

It was his own damn fault. He’d Friend Zoned himself at the outset, and he’d been relieved when she professed to feeling the same way he did about dating actors. That was the problem - Ben didn’t want to date Rey. He didn’t want to have a stupid goddamn showmance. He wanted to marry her and have babies with her and...

_Ben, you have got to pull yourself together,_ he raged silently. There was little point in rehashing his past decisions, no matter how excruciatingly stupid they were proving to be. He was no stranger to bad decisions, after all; he should be used to it by now. Best to just focus on getting through the next few weeks. Or the next few months. Perhaps things would be different when they were on his home turf, doing the English tour and the run at the Barbican. Maybe she felt it too. Maybe he could convince her to stay...

Ben pushed off the wall, squared his shoulders and placed his mask under his arm, then marched down the hallway to the vom for his first entrance.

\-----

“Excellent run today, kids. Just a week left of previews, and I couldn’t be happier. From tonight on, Captain Phasma will be sending any individual notes by email. And she assures me that they are mostly technical in nature. I exhibit no surprise.” 

The cast managed an exhausted chortle. 

“Just a few general notes. The energy is flagging a bit at the top of Neoptolemus, in the moments before Hux's entrance. Let’s try to build that anticipation a bit more, Pryde? Same at the top of Part Three for you, Rey. We really need to engage the audience right out of the gate.”

Luke shoved his hands into the pockets of his shabby tweed jacket and continued. “Speaking of Part Three. I want to single Rey and Ben out for plaudits. With almost no time to rehearse, you have both managed to create a singular moment of beauty in the midst of all the madness. I am moved to tears every time I watch your scene at the end of Cassandra. I am astonished at the rapport you’ve created together, and so quickly, the naked emotional honesty is really quite -”

“We should be naked.”

“Pardon me?” Luke shielded his hand over his eyes to block out the glare of the lights and peered into the house. Rey was sitting slightly apart, a few rows away from everyone else. “Rey, did you say something?”

“Yes. I said we should be naked.” Rey fixed her eyes on Luke, pointedly ignoring the surprised glances from the rest of the cast. “Agamemnon and Cassandra should be naked at the end of the scene. She tells him he must take the dress off her. So he should take it off.”

“Rey, are you -” 

Luke interrupted Ben with a wave of his hand. “Go on, Rey.” 

“They’ve already taken off their masks. It only makes sense. They need to reveal everything.”

“Alright now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, we’d need an intimacy coordinator, we need contract revisions -”

“Gwendolyn, please.” Luke’s tone of voice silenced Phasma immediately. He stepped to the edge of the stage and focused his eyes on Ben. “Well, my boy? Are you game? Rey is nearly naked in that slip dress anyway. So I suppose it’s up to you.”

Ben was silent for a moment. He’s been naked onstage before. A number of times, as it happens. It’s not an unreasonable request, and he’s confident in his mastery over his body. But in the past there has always been weeks of rehearsal, opportunities to check in throughout the process and ensure everyone’s comfort. 

Now? They are barely a week away from opening, barely ready for critics. And Rey? Does she really trust him this much? It breaks his heart a little, how afraid he is to let her down.

“Of course. Rey’s right. It’s the right decision, completely organic. The text calls for it. And it’s not enough for just Cassandra to be naked, Agamemnon has to strip everything away too.” 

Ben glanced over at Rey. She kept her eyes ahead, fixed on Luke.

“Besides,” he added with a small chuckle, “We’re so dimly lit at that point, no one will be able to see a damn thing.”

Luke clapped his hands together. “That’s settled, then. We’re dark tomorrow, so Phasma will find some time for the two of you to work through this then. Right, Phasma?”

“As you will it, so it shall be,” Phasma replied bitingly.

“Everyone else, please get some good rest tomorrow, and we’ll see you here for the 7 pm curtain on Tuesday.” The cast hurriedly prepared to depart as Luke began his descent from the stage, and then paused. “Rey, do you have a moment?” 

Rey had not moved from where she sat. “Of course, Luke.”

“Ben, you might stay for a moment too, if you like.” Ben stopped in the aisle and turned back, crossing through the row of seats to sit next to Rey.

This was the closest he’d been to her all week. Offstage, at any rate.

Luke made his way up the aisle and sat on the back of a theatre seat facing the pair. “Well. Just so we’re clear, Rey. I would have preferred to discuss this with the two of you in a more private setting.”

Rey tilted her chin up defiantly and met Luke’s icy blue stare. “You would have said no. Or Ben would have said no. This way, you couldn’t back down. And you know it’s the right move.”

Ben stared at her, but she kept her eyes trained on Luke, who cleared his throat and continued. “Ben has had some experience with onstage nudity. Have you, Rey?”

“I did _Extremities_ in college. They put me in nothing but a camisole and tap pants for a show in a tiny black box theatre. My roommate told me I should have waxed, she was sitting five feet away and could see my goddamn vagina during the rape scene.” 

Luke and Ben both shifted uncomfortably, but Rey’s face remained impassive. “This… is nothing. Trust me.” 

With that, she finally turned and met Ben’s gaze. “And besides. I trust _you_.”

\-----

Phasma grudgingly carved out a two hour window late on Monday afternoon for Luke, Ben and Rey to meet. They rehearsed the scene under the glare of the work lights, without the benefit of either mood lighting or sound cues, Phasma hovering throughout.

In costume and masks, Ben and Rey marked the scene once with the original blocking. They ran it again, and this time Rey slipped out of the artfully soiled yellow dress, crossed slowly to Ben, and shrugged his coat and shirt from his shoulders. Naked in the harsh glow of the work lights, Rey had all the power in the scene. Ben shuddered as he stepped out of his trousers and Rey held his gaze.

“Thank god you’re not in those skin-tight pants from Part One,” Rey deadpanned quietly, her eyes never leaving his. “We’d be here all goddamn day while you wriggled out of those things, Sweet Cheeks.” 

Ben let out a low, throaty laugh. “I feel very objectified right now.” 

Rey smiled, but then reached out and clutched his hand in both of hers. She drew him close. Their thighs touched, but just barely, and in unison they both leaned forward. She released his hands, and moved closer, reaching under his arms and gripping his shoulder blades. They stepped into the embrace as one, their nakedness both obscured by and shared with one another. Rey closed her eyes and tucked her head under his chin, as one large hand gently cradled the back of her head and the other slid around to rest gently at the center of her back.

Ben tightened his grip imperceptibly, and the sound of the stage around her seemed to drop away. They drew a breath in unison, and held the moment.

After a pause, Luke murmured from the lip of the stage, “Excellent. That’s just right. Very tender and... yes, let’s take it again, shall we, from the same spot?” 

Rey and Ben drew apart wordlessly, sharing only a brief and reassuring squeeze of hands. They redressed, and repeated the scene. 

At Luke’s request they ran it a third time. The movements did not vary, as if there was only one way for the scene to play out. 

Finally dressed in their street clothes again, Ben and Rey sat side by side in the first row of seats. Luke leaned against the stage, his arms crossed.

“Well. I think there’s nothing more to say here. Just this. Rey, your instinct was... right. I’m glad you fought for this moment. And I’m also glad that you trusted us all enough to share it. Thank you for this.” 

Luke paused, then turned his attention to Ben. “And while I’m being so free with the praise this evening, let me add this: I am incredibly proud of you, Ben. Not just for this scene, although I believe it may turn out to be the highlight of the entire nine hour slog.” His face turned serious. “I should never have doubted you, my boy. I cannot imagine this production without you. Without either of you, if I’m honest.”

Luke leaned down and kissed Rey gently on the forehead. He then turned and did the same to his nephew. “Kids, go home and rest. We’ve got a long week ahead.” He sauntered off in the direction of the lobby. “Captain Phasma, come along. I owe you a drink.”

“Oh, General Skywalker. You owe me several drinks. But we’ll begin with one.”

Ben and Rey remained where they sat for a few moments. “How does the back deck sound, Ben Solo? I’ve got a full bottle of bourbon with your name on it.”

Wordlessly, Ben smiled, then reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.

“It’s a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know bubkes about the dressing room situation backstage at the Denver Center. But I do know that Principle Equity contracts require a private room. I never had one as a Principle, but even if demanding one doesn't sound like the worst kind of diva move, it sounds lonely as hell. I have had more fun in a crowded dressing room than almost anywhere else.
> 
> The nudity was indeed a last-minute addition to Tantalus, according to the cast - with just about a week left in rehearsals. And it was the actors playing Agamemnon and Cassandra who came up with the idea. These days, there would almost certainly be an intimacy coordinator on hand, but I suspect they went without. 
> 
> And the comment about waxing? Also true. Unfortunately, it was my sister, not my roommate, who made the observation. Sitting next to my parents, mere feet away from my exposed nether regions. It wasn't even the worst thing about that show.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: blood, violence, dom/sub if ya squint, and sex - dream sex, but still...

**_“I’m frightened of the power I have given him over me and of how he will almost certainly abuse it, merely by not being fully aware he has it.”_ **

_-Carrie Fisher_

“So, tell me about Bazine.” 

Ben, who’d been busy refilling their glasses from the half empty bottle of Breckenridge, jerked his head up suddenly, spilling a bit of whiskey on the table. He looked at her guiltily before assuming a more neutral expression, surreptitiously using a corner of the blanket on his lap to mop it up. 

“Why do you ask?” he asked, affecting nonchalance.

Rey picked her glass up. “Just wondering. I’ve heard she was a diva, but also incredibly talented. And you don’t talk about her much.” Rey paused and took a sip of whiskey. “The relationship between Cassandra and Agamemnon is so intense. I just... I wondered if maybe you and Bazine might have had a connection too.”

Ben looked at her, unsure how to proceed. He made a point of never trashing another actor, no matter how difficult the working relationship. Shit-talking Bazine would be easy; her work ethic left something to be desired, and her incessant pawing at him infuriated Ben, but she was someone else’s problem now. He should be magnanimous. 

“Bazine was... she was beautiful, intense, and fascinating. So yes, we had a connection.” Ben thought he saw a flash of something on Rey’s face, but then it was gone. _Probably a trick of the light_. 

“Her Cassandra is - I mean, it _was_ \- so different from yours. She seemed very much a princess, the daughter of Priam, the King of Troy. Your portrayal is a lot... earthier, more joyful, I suppose?” _Sexier_ , he thought. 

“It wouldn’t have worked for Bazine to strip naked and -” Ben paused. “I’m struggling to find the best way to describe it. I think her Cassandra fought to gain the upper hand in the power struggle. I think your Cassandra has all the power because of what she's willing to give up. Does that make sense?”

Rey pressed her lips together tightly. “It does. But I can see how hers would be a better way to play the scene, you know. More conflict -”

“No,” Ben interrupted. “Not better, just different. And you’ve certainly found the _love_ in the scene -”  
  


“Literally and figuratively, haven’t I?” Rey murmured with a laugh. “Somehow convinced you to strip bare-ass naked...”

“Willingly, Rey.”

She blinked owlishly at the sudden seriousness of his tone, and Ben shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. "But I think the stakes are higher in the scene as it is now. And it really does play better this way. I’m frankly surprised that Luke didn’t suggest it first. It’s very much his style. His _Midsummer Night’s Dream_ is infamous.”

Rey laughed wickedly. “Oh, Leia told me! Dame Judi Dench’s tits painted green, right?”

“Right - long before she was a _dame_. She was still a _broad_ in those days.”

They both laughed at that. After a moment, Rey took another long sip. 

_Liquid courage_.

“Why did you avoid me all week?”

Ben looked like he might throw up all that good port-casked bourbon on her deck.

“I didn’t -”

“You absolutely did, Ben Solo. No use denying it.” Rey interrupted, her tone calm. “After the last night we spent together out here like this, you basically pretended I was invisible for a week straight. It’s fine, you don’t owe me anything, not even an explanation. I just want to know if I should expect the same treatment tomorrow so I can plan accordingly.”

The look of chagrin on Ben’s face was enough of an admission for Rey. “I did, and I don’t have a good explanation. I’m sorry, Rey, I truly didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Rey lied blithely. “Like I said, you don’t owe me anything. But we’re friends. I just thought I’d done something wrong, that it was me.”

Ben leaned forward on the couch and placed his glass firmly on the table. “Rey. I am sorry. It was shit-heel behavior, and I apologize. _And_ I wish to hell that you wouldn’t assume any time someone is an asshole to you, it’s because you deserve it. God, you deserve...” Ben looked down at his glass intently. “You deserve someone who puts you at the center of their world, who -”

“People rarely get what they deserve in this world, Ben. I don’t believe in karma, I can’t afford to. If I did, then I’d be forced to look back on the last two decades of my life and wonder what I did wrong, instead of looking ahead and deciding what I can do right.” Rey swallowed the rest of her whiskey. “If life has taught me any valuable lessons so far, it’s this - I can’t control what others do, I can only control my response.”

“Agreed, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t be mad at me.”

“What is there to be mad about? It’s not like we’re dating. We’re friends and -”

“ _A_ _nd_ I can’t help but feel like you’re letting me off the hook for being an asshole to you -”

“So what, you blew me off for a couple of days.” Rey laughed harshly and poured them both another few fingers of whiskey. “Somehow I think you’re going to beat yourself up about it more than I ever could, Ben Solo.” 

They regarded each other in silence for another moment. “And speaking of beating you up... how are things with your mom?”

It was Ben’s turn to give a harsh laugh. “Better than I expected, honestly. It’s been great to work with her... I don’t think we spent this much time together during my entire childhood. Although I do believe in karma, very much, and there’s a part of me that wonders if all the time Leia has to spend standing around watching me act is some kind of karmic payback for all the shows she’s missed seeing.”

“Ben, she is so proud of you, you have to know that. God, you should see the look on her face when she watches you. She looks like she’s about to burst, she’s so happy.” Rey grinned. “Not sure what she’ll have to say about seeing your bare ass on stage.”  
  


“Oh, based on some of the stories I’ve heard, she’s in no position to say a damn thing.”

“Is your dad going to make it to town for the show?”

“Opening night, I believe.” Ben turned, stretching his long legs out on the couch. “Not my mother’s choice, she is superstitious about opening week and she usually makes him wait until the second week of the run to see her. But next Saturday is the only time that fits into his busy schedule, apparently.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t know that I’ll see much of him. He and Lando go way back, and I imagine they’ll be off getting into bar fights, pretending they’re still young and invincible.”

“You know, I still haven’t met our esteemed producer. I guess I’ll meet him opening night?”

“Yes. And his wife.” Ben groaned. “I hate those things. It’s bad enough whenever the producers trot us out for the dog and pony show. After more than 12 hours at the theatre, it sounds like torture.”

“Oh, I don’t know, it doesn’t sound so bad to me. Free food and champagne, seeing everyone all dressed up...” Rey’s eyes glowed under the lights. “Rose and Jannah are taking me shopping tomorrow afternoon for something to wear, since god knows I don’t have anything like that in my closet.”

Ben turned his head at the wistful note in her voice.

“I’ve never really had... I don’t know, 'girlfriends' sounds dumb, I guess. Someone to do frivolous things like clothes shopping with.” Rey snorted. “And I’ve definitely never had the money before. Booking this - what does Leia call it?”

“A drama skit?”

“Right. God, your mom’s a hoot. Booking this drama skit has changed a lot of things for me.”

Ben rolled over on the couch and propped himself on an elbow. “What did it change?”

“It’s just given me a lot more financial stability than I’ve ever had before. I’ve never known what was coming my way from one week to the next. And now, having the next half a year sorted out? And when I took over for Jess and they amended my contract... god, I thought I would pass out. I’m making more in a week than I would have made in a month.”

Ben sipped his drink thoughtfully. “You’ve always had to be self-sufficient, haven’t you?”

“I guess so, but I know I’m luckier than most. Thanks to Maz, I got to know what it was like to be in a safe place where someone cared about you. I got to go to college, where I met Finn and Poe. And that led me to -” _To you_ , she thought. “To this show. And now I’ve got money in the bank, and a fridge full of food, a passport in my bag... and tomorrow I’ll have a sexy new outfit.”

Ben choked on his whiskey. “Sexy?”

“Well, I don’t know how sexy it will be. But anything is an improvement over the ratty t-shirts and leggings that currently make up my entire wardrobe.”

Ben didn’t know how to tell her that he’d never seen anything as sexy as those leggings and t-shirts in his entire life.

“And speaking of a fridge full of food... how do waffles sound for breakfast?”

Ben sat up. “You want me to stay?”

Rey’s face fell a little. “Oh, I just assumed -”

“No, no - I’d love to stay. I just didn’t want to, I don’t know, take advantage of your hospitality. Especially after I abused it last time.”

“Don’t be silly. I even got you your own toothbrush, Ben Solo.”

\-----

Ben had stripped to his undershirt and boxer briefs and settled into Chuy’s massive and inviting bed - _seriously, whoever this guy is, I owe him a beer_ \- and was just about to turn out the light on the nightstand when Rey appeared in the doorway, similarly attired. 

“I thought... well, I just figured, if I’m going to end up here anyway, I might as well skip the whole sleepwalking/scaring the shit out you part and...”

Ben wordlessly lifted the covers and slid a pillow in front of him. His eyes never left hers. Rey slipped in and snuggled against her big warm pillow fort and sighed contentedly.

“Good night, Ben.”

“Sweet dreams, Rey.”

\-----

_in the Dream_

_The acrid smell of smoke fills her nostrils, and the clang of swords and the cries of wounded and dying men surround her. She looks down at her sodden surcoat, drenched in rain and blood, and wipes a damp strand of hair out of her eyes with the back of a muddy hand before charging forward again, her claymore raised against an oncoming enemy. Behind her, she can make out the labored breathing of her comrade in arms, her best friend, as he hurls taunts and shouts obscenities at the Thane of Cawdor’s men, mowing members of Clan Campbell down as easily as if they are filled with straw._

_She senses him right behind her suddenly, just as surely as she can feel her own heart hammering in her chest. As he leans forward to thrust his massive broadsword through another enemy, she leans back, grabbing his muscular thigh for balance and using the momentum to direct a vicious kick in the chest of another of the Thane’s hapless vassals._

_She spins around just in time to see another enemy charging toward her beloved Macbeth. She snatches a dirk from the hands of a dead man at her feet and flings it with all her strength. It catches the Campbell in the back and drops him where he stands, just as Macbeth turns. His eyes meet hers through the smoke in silent thanks before turning to his next opponent._

_The sounds of battle begin to dim, and she finds herself in Macbeth’s tent. He shrugs her out of her blood-drenched battle gear, and she helps him out of his. Wordlessly, they step into an embrace, and he catches her mud-streaked face between his two hands. He looks down at her in wonder._

_“How many times did you save my life today,_ caraid gaolach _?” he whispers softly._

_“I was only saving my own, beloved friend,” she replies. “For I have no life without you.”_

_He bends his head and captures her mouth hungrily, devouring her lips with the same ferocity he’d shown on the battlefield. She moans into him, desperate with want, as his hands move over her, plucking a sensitive nipple with one while cupping her round, ripe buttocks with another. She wraps both legs around his waist as he carries her to the pile of furs and places her gently there._

_She lets out a throaty laugh. “So gentlemanly, my lord, for all the world like I am a sweetly scented lady in her bedchamber and not a filthy soldier fresh from battle.”_

_“You are the fiercest warrior I’ve ever known, my beloved Banquo. And no lady in her bedchamber could smell sweeter than you.”_

_As if to prove his point, he lowers his dark head to her cunt and plunders it with his mouth. He runs his long tongue through her drenched folds before flicking insistently on her bud. He knows precisely how to bring her to climax, how roughly she likes him to take her throbbing pearl into his mouth, the merest graze of his teeth on her sex wringing cries of pleasure from her. Just as he is about to add his fingers to the merciless assault of his tongue, she grabs his hand in hers._

_“No, my lord. I would find my fulfillment on your cock.”_

_He nods hungrily and climbs over her, entering her with one swift, brutal, glorious thrust. She screams in ecstasy as he rears back, plunging into her again and again with an unrelenting rhythm. Just as she feels her release upon her, his hips stutter and he bellows, his seed filling her as they fall apart together. She rolls on top of him, stubbornly keeping his manhood trapped inside her swollen sex as she lays down on his broad chest. She is reluctant to let him go, this brave warrior of hers, and it pleases her to think she might keep him for herself for just another moment or two before he leaves her._

\-----

Rey moaned softly in her sleep. Ben had been sleeping soundly, but the noise of her dreaming roused him. He shifted, tightening his hold on her waist, and drifted back to sleep.

\-----

_in the Dream_

_The room is lit softly with flickering candles as he enters. There, stretched out languorously on the bed, is his beloved Rey. She is dressed only in a slip, white silk and golden skin glowing in the reflection of the candlelight._

_“My love,” he murmurs softly. “Have you been waiting long?”_

_“Mmmmhmmm...” she hums in reply. “I’ve been waiting for years. I tried to be patient, I tried very hard to be a good girl.”_

_“And...” he begins to remove his shirt and tie. “Were you? A good girl?”_

_“I touched myself.” She casts her eyes down. “I thought of you and I couldn’t help it. You weren’t here to take care of me.”_

_“I’m here now, my sweet girl. Will you let me take care of you?”_

_She nods, peering up at him through her long, dark lashes. She turns her gaze to the tie he’d just removed and bites her lip._

_“Should I tie you to the bed now? Should I make sure you don’t run away?”_

_“Yes, please.” She smiles innocently, her dimples appearing. “Just as long as I don’t have to be sweet.”_

_He lets out a groan and quickly removes his pants before retrieving his tie. He bends over her, running his large hands up her silky arms before gently catching her wrists and binding them carefully to the headboard with his tie. She wriggles her hands, a signal to him that she can free herself whenever she wishes, then runs the pointed tip of her tongue over her lips expectantly._

_He hovers over her for a moment, capturing her perfect mouth in a kiss. She moans into him, and the sound of it goes straight to his cock._

_He leans over and opens the drawer of the bedside table, removing a black rabbit vibrator with a knowing smile. It is an impressive toy, and a lesser man might be intimidated. Fortunately, he is not a lesser man._

_“Is this how you spend your time when I am not here, Rey?”_

_She nods again, her eyes darkened with desire._

_“Will you show me how it feels when you use it?”_

_Another nod and the slightest opening of her legs is her answer._

_He reaches slowly between her thighs and strokes the velvety opening. “So wet already, my love. Shall we begin?”_

_She opens her legs still wider, and he carefully inserts the toy. With the push of a button, the rabbit comes to life, the vibrations catching her by surprise. He moves the toy experimentally as her eyes close._

_“More, my sweet girl?” She nods again, more emphatically this time. He pushes the button again and the vibrations increase. Her eyes remain closed, and her nipples begin to pebble beneath the silk of her slip. He bends over to capture a perfect bud between his lips, grazing it gently with his teeth, while he continues his ministrations with the toy. He loves the sounds that escape as she chases her ecstasy._

_“Tell me, my lovely Rey. What do you think about when you use your toy?”_

_“I think about your mouth, and your hands, and your cock. And then I think of all the ways I want to use your mouth, and your hands and your cock, and I can’t stop myself. And then I... oh, god. I’m going to -”_

_“Are you, my good girl? So quickly?”_

_He removes the toy and turns it off, and answers her whimper of distress by replacing it with his mouth. “I want you to come on my tongue, I want to swallow every sweet drop of you.” He plunges his tongue between her folds and licks through her, his nose rubbing her swollen clit as he laps her up._

_She lets out a high pitched moan and he feels the walls of her cunt shudder around his tongue, just as a gush of wetness fills his waiting mouth. They moan in unison as he drinks her down._

_He lifts his head and looks at her adoringly._

_She smiles at him in return, and then looks questioningly at the tie. “Will you... before we...”_

_“Yes, my sweet love, of course.” He makes quick work of the knot around her wrists, and then captures her lips in another gentle kiss. “But tonight I just want to hold you and watch you fall asleep. Can we do that, my lovely girl?”_

_She nods sleepily, and then wraps her arms trustingly around his neck and nuzzles against his chest. He is hard as a rock, but he cannot find it in him to care in this moment. As he gazes down at her, he thinks he’s never been so satisfied. And so in love._

\-----

Ben groaned and shifted uncomfortably in his sleep, tightening his grip around Rey’s waist and waking her. She turned to look at him, worried that he might be having a bad dream, but saw the ghost of a smile play across his lips. She rolled over again, snuggled even deeper into his arms, and fell back to sleep with a smile on her own face.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at school, we used to call plays "drama skits" - it always seemed to take everybody down a few pegs when they were being overly serious about things. 
> 
> I did play Banquo in a gender-blind cast of the Scottish Play - I got an enormous broadsword, a great death scene, and a final appearance as blood-drenched ghost. I was not sexy. I was actually pretty terrible in the show, but it was fun as hell.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**_It’s very dangerous to have someone like you, because one day he’ll find that you are not the person he thought you were.”_ **

_-Carrie Fisher_

Ben awoke to the sun streaming through the window. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in without the blare of an alarm waking him for an early morning workout. And he didn’t think he’d ever slept so deeply or so well.

He stretched with a yawn and looked down at the soundly sleeping form wrapped around him. Evidently, Rey had deconstructed their makeshift wall of pillows during the night and twined her arms and legs around him. This complicated the current state of affairs, as he was hard enough to hammer nails through wood, and one of her shapely legs was currently pressed against his groin. He’d need to extricate himself sooner rather than later. But she looked so beautiful, so trusting, sleeping there in his arms... he thought he could ignore the demands of his bladder for a few moments more.

Ben was not a _snuggler._ He couldn’t even remember an instance where a lover stayed for more than an hour after sex; it had always seemed mutually beneficial for all parties involved to just wrap things up and say their goodbyes. 

And here he was, being aggressively snuggled by a woman who didn’t even want to have sex with him. What had she called him? _Ridiculous_. That was the perfect word for him. 

As Ben lay there, contentedly watching her sleep, the snippets of a dream came back to him. There’d been a bloody battle and... no, wait, an image of her in white silk, skin glowing in the candlelight as he... God, he _never_ remembered his dreams. But he’d had two of the most vivid - 

Just then, his ruminations were interrupted by a softly mumbled “G’morning” into his chest. 

Ben smiled softly at Rey and ruffled her already sleep-mussed hair. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“Oh, shit, sorry! I ruined your pillow fort and then I added insult to injury and latched onto you like a spider monkey! God, I am completely absurd...” 

Ben laughed. He was determined to keep things light and casual this morning. The last thing he wanted was to make Rey uncomfortable or scare her off. If sex dreams and death by snuggling were to be his ultimate fate here in the desolate wasteland known as the Friend Zone, he was determined to make the best of it.

He rolled over to meet her gaze with what he hoped was a Friendly Smile, surreptitiously adjusting his hard-on as he did so. “Rey Sutton, you are not absurd, you are absolutely adorable. And I don’t think I’ve ever slept that well in my life, so thank you.”

Rey's shy smile widened until her dimples appeared. _God help me, I want to wake up to the sight of these dimples every day for the rest of my life_.

“Oh, me too, I feel great this morning!” She stretched languidly, and Ben found himself unable to look away as the camisole tightened across her breasts. Rey was making everything much harder this morning.

“No trace of a hangover, even after I drank all that good whiskey of yours.” Her eyes widened just slightly. “I did have the weirdest dreams, though...”

“Did you?” Ben responded in what he hoped was a neutral tone. “Same. Must’ve been the whiskey.”

“Right? Right...” Rey replied with equal nonchalance. “I dreamed I was swinging a great big claymore in battle.” She glanced down at his crotch. “Must’ve been something... _subconscious_ ,” she said seriously, then laughed when she saw the look of shock on his face. “I’m kidding, Ben Solo! My god, it’s perfectly natural. I honestly can’t even bring myself to be flattered...”

“No, that’s - I mean, yes, it’s perfectly natural. That’s not what I -” Ben sat up and stared down at Rey. “Tell me what you dreamed?”

“Oh...” Rey’s smile disappeared. “Well, I had a - god, I don’t know, I dreamed I was Banquo and you were... _you-know-who_.”

Ben barked out a laugh. “I think you can say ‘Macbeth’ when you’re not in a theatre.”

Rey glanced at him with distrust. “Anyway, we were in battle together, and then... we... weren’t.”

Ben’s eyebrow lifted. “Would you think I was crazy if I said I had a really similar dream?”

“What?” Now Rey was sitting up. 

Ben looked at her intently. “Did you have any other dreams?”

Rey’s eyes dropped to her lap, where her slender fingers were twisting nervously. “Well, I do remember another one. I was wearing a -”

“A white slip.”

Rey’s eyes flew to his face. “I don’t understand. How can we... why do you... shit!”

Ben reached out and took one of her hands in his. “It’s alright, Rey. I feel it too.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “And you swing a mean broadsword, woman...”

Rey laughed, her dimples reappearing.

“I really played Banquo!”

“Now this I’ve gotta hear...” Ben deadpanned.

“It was a _terrible_ show. Or I was terrible _in_ it, at any rate.” Rey jumped out of bed. “Come on. I’ll tell you about it over waffles.”

\-----

Ben was full of surprises. As Rey mixed up batter and preheated Maz’s decrepit but reliable waffle iron, Ben macerated strawberries and blueberries. She snuck a surreptitious glance at him while he prepared the berries, adding a splash of the bourbon for good measure, and amended her long-held opinion: _the only thing sexier than talent is knife skills_.

She tried not to think too hard about the implications of the shared dreams. Rey’s ability to compartmentalize and rationalize simultaneously was by now a well-honed survival skill. In all likelihood, she wasn’t the only one who talked in their sleep, and something she overheard Ben say just found its way into her dream. Nothing more.

And while she was willing to admit that waking up in those huge arms of his would unquestionably rank among the best things she’d ever get to experience, she was determined to remain chill. She had no illusions about the nature of her friendship with Ben. Or the future of it. They had a two month run ahead of them, followed by another six months in England. It was a long time. And it was also not long enough.

_And_ , she reminded herself, _he does not date other actors_. Even if he did - _even if all those Bazine rumors are true_ \- she knew damn well she didn’t have a thing he’d want. They were coworkers and friends. In that order. 

_Nope_ , Rey thought as she ladled batter onto the iron, _by next June he’ll be nothing more than a lovely memory_. No use wishing for things she’d never have. 

She turned around in time to see him gripping the ancient hand mixer she’d used for the egg whites. He’d added honey and cinnamon to a stick of butter and was whipping it. He glanced up, caught her surprised stare and smiled. 

“My culinary skills, yes. I see that you are impressed. Born out of necessity. Luke doesn’t cook, and Leia thinks she can but is incorrect. Han is the only one who can cook worth a damn and since he was never around, I had to learn or starve.”

He washed up the beaters and dried his hands. “Besides, these are basically just condiments. When we get to London, I’ll make you my osso bucco and risotto.”

“I don’t know what any of that is, Ben Solo. But I never say no to food.”

Ben rooted around in the cupboards for something to put the whipped butter in. “You said something about that last night, too. ‘A fridge full of food’, was that right?”

“Oh. Yeah.” 

Rey pretended to be very interested in an invisible mark on the counter.

There were some things that she was just never going to share: How often the withholding of food had been used as a punishment in her foster homes. How often she’d wondered how she’d get her next meal. How she’d somehow learned to equate the absence of food with the gnawing loneliness that accompanied it. 

How she’d come to associate the presence of food with love: Maz, Finn and Poe. And now Ben. She was definitely not going to share that.

“You know, just a lot of ramen in college. No different than any other college kid.”

“Hmmmm... why do I get the sense that there’s more to it than that?”

“Oh, please,” Rey scoffed. “Do I look like I’m starving? Besides, Finn and Poe make sure I’m well-fed. They usually make me come over for dinner at least once a week. Maybe we’ll be able to resume once the show is open and I’ll drag you along. Poe is an incredible cook.”

“I’d like that. Be great to get to know your best friends a lot better.” 

They stared at one another for a long moment. 

“Shit!” Rey remembered the waffles. “Practice waffle...” she laughed, launching it into the compost bin, and starting another.

“Rey, I -” Ben stopped short and Rey turned expectantly. “I just want to thank you for... well, for last night. And for... god, I don’t know.” 

Ben ran a hand through his hair. _Nervous Ben is very appealing,_ Rey mused as she suppressed a shiver.

“Thanks for being so nice to me, Rey. I was so goddamn homesick when I got here, I just...” Ben looked down at his hands, and a lock of his hair fell across his eyes. “God, I haven’t felt that way since my parents shipped me off to London twenty years ago. I was so ridiculous, a grown man feeling sorry for himself.”

He looked back up at Rey. “And then, next thing I know, you come blowing into my life on that janky mountain bike of yours, and I don’t feel homesick anymore. I’m grateful that you’re my... friend.”

“My bike is not janky,” Rey deadpanned.

“That’s your takeaway? All that and -”

Rey took his hand. “It’s alright, Ben,” she intoned in her best imitation of his rumbling baritone. “I feel it too.”

They laughed, their heads nearly touching, and then they finished making their waffles and covered them with butter and fruit. “Come on, Ben Solo. Eat up. I promised you community theatre horror stories and I mean to deliver.”

\-----

Rey was exhausted. Rose and Jannah had dragged her all over town searching for deals. Rose had insisted that Rey needed to be thinking further ahead than just opening night, and had filled two shopping bags at the Déjà Blue Boutique with winter clothes. 

“We’re going for a gamine, Jean Seberg kind of thing. Cropped trousers, chunky fisherman knits, bateau necks. Lots of neutrals and layers, things that will travel well all over England. A big scarf, and a new bag... and a trench coat. Dear god, you _need_ a trench coat.”

Rey and Jannah rolled their eyes in unison. Rey’s badly pilling fleece jackets and her collection of t-shirts from unsuccessful local bands had served her well thus far. Jannah’s tastes ran more to tunics and palazzo pants, ensembles that frequently toed the line between clothing and pajamas. Her head scarves and enormous Fulani earrings were her only real concession to fashion.

“A little black dress, definitely. Also some kitten heels, probably some loafers, and knee high boots. What are you, a 7?”

“Well,” Rey began, affecting a sweet Southern twang. “In a good shoe, I wear a size 6, but a 7 feels so good, I buy a size 8.”

Rose responded, giggling. ”They're 8 1/2.”

“Perfect!” they shrieked in unison as the sales clerk looked on in dismay.

“God, are you two idiots quoting _Steel Magnolias_? Because I will end this shit right now.”

“Sorry, Jannah, we’ll behave,” Rey murmured apologetically.

“Well, I am seeing nothing here for Saturday night.” Rose threw her bag over her shoulder with authority. ”We better hit Rags down the street before we give up entirely.”

They stowed the bags in Jannah’s Jeep and headed down the block. Given its proximity to some of the more affluent neighborhoods in Denver, Rose thought Rags Consignment might have something that would work. “They never have shit for choices in anything larger than an 8, but let’s see what we can find.”

She moved quickly through the racks, pulling a Lela Rose pantsuit with flared sleeves and a Calvin Klein tuxedo with a cropped jacket. And then she stopped short and grabbed a Victoria Beckham jersey dress with a red satin halter neck and tank straps. 

“Damn it, this is a 4...” Rose held it up in front of Rey. “Oh, I don’t give a shit, you’re trying it on. It’s viscose, it’ll stretch.”

“Rose, it’s not gonna stretch an entire _size_ and I… I mean, this is not red carpet. It’s just a small party.”

Rose handed the armful of clothes to Jannah and waved her off toward the dressing rooms without taking her eyes off of Rey. “You know what my mother used to say? ‘It’s better to be overdressed than underdressed. If anyone asks you, just say you have someplace better to be after this.’ And my mother was never wrong, was she, Rey?”

“No. She was never wrong. But didn’t Oscar Wilde say that?” 

“Yeah, probably. Come on, let’s get these clothes on you. A little Crisco and some fishing wire and we'll be in business.”

“Please do not let Jannah catch you quoting _The Devil Wears Prada_. We will be walking home.”

\-----

Rey lay sprawled out on the large bed surveying Rose's handiwork. She’d never owned this much clothing in her life. Sweaters, and high waisted trousers, and a pencil skirt. Even new t-shirts, but in a silky kind of fabric that Rose had called modal... lots of black, more than she would have thought to get herself. But it all matched, Rose had reasoned. She promised to help Rey pack, and even offered to send her to England with pictures of different outfits so Rey wouldn’t have to figure it all out on her own.

The Victoria Beckham was sinfully tight, but the price was right and Rose would not take no for an answer. And somehow, Jannah had found a Burberry trench on the sale rack. There was a rip in the lining which would be easy enough to mend.

Rose and Jannah had insisted on buying it for her. “Think of it as an opening night gift.”

Rey didn’t really know how to tell them what the gift had meant to her. “I’ll think about you both every day that I wear it.”

“Oh, trust me, you _will_ be wearing it every day,” Jannah laughed. “The weather is going to be total _shit_ while you’re over there.”

Rey smiled when she thought about the tour. And Ben. And Ben’s cooking... She reached over to grab the pillow from Ben’s side of the bed and pulled it toward her, inhaling the lingering scent of his maleness that remained.

_Ben’s side of the_ \- Rey sat up in horror. 

_What the hell is wrong with me_? 

First, she let Rose convince her to hang her “new” clothes in Maz’s empty closet rather than hauling them upstairs. But only after a rant about proper hangers, _Mommie Dearest_ quotes, and an unscheduled detour to Target. 

And now... she’s started to refer to the bed as _hers_. And to think of the left side of the bed as Ben’s. 

Rey groaned and rolled over, hugging the pillow one last time before stripping the bed, taking it all down the hall to the laundry, and climbing the stairs to _her_ room. 

How the hell did she let this happen? How could she let herself fall like this, for a man this unattainable? Well, it hardly mattered now. She needed to nip it in the bud. The alternative was guaranteed heartbreak. 

_By next June he’ll be nothing more than a lovely memory_ , she reminded herself. _No use wishing for things you’ll never have._

\-----

To Phasma’s great relief, the final preview shows had gone remarkably well. The Myrmidons finally - _finally_ \- nailed down their choreography, and she no longer feared for Frantis’ life during the destruction of the shrine at Delphi. And the new scene had gone over surprisingly well. Rey and Ben were... well, it was nearly enough to make Phasma cry. Nearly.

“Alright troops, we are so very close. A bit bumpy tonight in spots, but I’ll send notes by email. Not to worry: bad dress, good opening. We’re dark tomorrow, our press opening is on Saturday and then we start our normal performance schedule.” Phasma paused and looked around. “Not that anything here could be construed as _normal_.”

Phasma acknowledged the snickering and rolled eyes. The performance schedule was unbelievably convoluted. They would mostly do the show over two days, but there would be four day-long Saturday performances, including the press opening, of all nine plays.

“Call on Saturday is at 9 am, or - Leia, I’m sorry, what did you call it? Ah, yes… the _ass-crack of dawn_.” This drew another chuckle. 

“You have my deepest apologies, but rest assured, the running crew and I will have been here for hours already by the time you arrive.” Phasma consulted her notebook. “I’ve been informed by the public relations office that they’ve fielded more than 150 requests from critics for press seats. Not all of them will be in attendance on Saturday, praise the gods, but we do expect press from seven different countries at the opening. Another gentle reminder, my band of brothers. Don’t read a word of it. Critics are notoriously full of shit.”

Phasma’s stern expression softened into what a casual onlooker might mistake for a smile. “And don’t forget, our gracious host Lando Calrissian is throwing a small party in your honor Saturday night. Do try to look presentable and _don’t_ drink all the champagne. I am looking at you, Leia.”

This did elicit an actual laugh from the exhausted cast. Phasma snapped her notebook shut. “Go get some rest, and I will see you at 9 am on Saturday. Except Hux. I will see you at 8.”

“Dear lord, what is this?” Hux muttered. “Children’s theatre?”

As Rey gathered her things, Ben wandered over. “Do you want to get a drink? I know it’s probably too chilly tonight for drinks on your deck but -”

Rey straightened up and fiddled with the strap on her messenger bag. She’d managed to avoid being alone with him all week, claiming exhaustion. This was not a lie; she hadn’t been able to sleep well at all since Monday night. Even after several desperate sessions with her most reliable vibrator. 

But she honestly didn’t trust herself around him right now.

“I’d love that, but I’m... I just feel really wiped out.” She looked up tentatively, not meeting his eyes but instead focusing somewhere over his left shoulder. Rey knew if she looked into his whiskey-colored eyes she’d lose her nerve and say _yes god yes come over and let’s have a drink and then please take me to bed and fuck me til I forget my own name_... and then she’d be lost.

“Raincheck?” Ben’s tone sounded... not hurt, but not hopeful either. 

“Definitely,” Rey replied with forced cheer. “Raincheck!”

As Rey walked her bike out of the complex, it occurred to her. 

  
_He sounded resigned_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, it's not quite a makeover montage, but Rose just strikes me as the kind of friend who knows all the best places for... well, everything. And Jannah is loosely based on a friend of mine who's a slam poet - I do not think I am speaking out of turn when I tell you she would not tolerate these film quotes.
> 
> I honestly don't know how the cast and crew made it through the four day-long performances they had during the run of this production. But I do know that I saw the third "festival" performance, on the Saturday following Thanksgiving, and their energy really never dropped for a moment. Twelve hours at the theatre felt more like two. 
> 
> I miss a lot of things about "normal life" during the pandemic, but seeing live theatre is near the top of the list.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**_"Sometimes you can only find Heaven by slowly backing away from Hell.”_ **

_-Carrie Fisher_

_What are you afraid of?_

_Let it out, Agamemnon!_

Cassandra stands, her arms thrown open wide, her hands raised to the heavens. She looks over her shoulder as Agamemnon crosses to her.

_Time to dance the wedding dance_

He stops halfway across the stage and stares in disbelief at Cassandra.

_How can I dance with you?_

_You are not my bride_

She turns slowly to him, her arms now fully raised above her head, the yellow silk of her costume gaping to reveal glimpses of breasts and back.

_Yes, I am your slave bride_

_That is how it is written_

Agamemnon moves a step closer.

_By the gods?_

Cassandra reaches toward him now.

_No. Within us_

_And in the Muses’ songs_

He removes his cloak and moves toward her.

_My wife must not see you_

He pauses. The audience gives a nervous laugh, as they do every night. 

_In that dress when we reach Mycenae_

Agamemnon moves to put the cloak around her shoulders, bending as he does to nuzzle her neck.

Cassandra leans into him for just a moment, and then pushes the cloak back from her shoulders.

_Then you must take it off me._

She turns and moves upstage behind him.

_Burn, light, high!_

_Let it flame up to Olympus!_

From the trap door, the fire bursts forth. She raises her arms again and moves to stand before the flames.

_Muses dance with me_

_And with all who are human_

_I dance for this man_

Agamemnon crosses to her, removing his coat.

They undress one another, as they’ve done for several nights. It always feels like it did that first time.

But this time, as Cassandra steps into the embrace of the man she loves, the sounds of crackling fire and plaintive music fall away, and all she can hear is his heartbeat. And for a moment, in the Now, she isn’t Cassandra. She is Rey. And he is Ben.

And she isn’t alone anymore.

\-----

“I’ll tell you what, seeing your son’s bare ass in public is something no man should ever have to face without at least one glass of whiskey in him.”

Han shook his head ruefully and took another enormous swallow of his Pappy Van Winkle. Lando had set it aside for just this occasion, and had generously offered Rey a glass. Rey didn’t know much about bourbon, but she knew that this stuff cost thousands of dollars a bottle and would therefore be totally wasted on her. 

“I’m just fine with champagne, thank you.”

“Are you sure we can’t tempt you?” Lando replied smoothly. “Least we can do for this courageous little girl, flying in to the rescue at the 11th hour like you did.”

Rey blushed and shook her head. Beaumont Kin’s story about her had come out on Friday, and she cringed just thinking about it. Kin had been overly generous. Forced to pivot from the Hometown Girl Makes Good angle, he’d leaned into the Pushed in Front of the Audience trope a little too hard for Rey’s taste, and had included quotes from several cast and crew members. 

Including Phasma. _Rey Sutton is possibly the single bravest actor I have ever met._

Rey still hadn’t been able to make eye contact with Phasma.

“So, how do you like getting naked with my son, Rey?”

Rey choked on her champagne, and Leia slugged her husband in the shoulder hard enough to threaten the safety of his drink. “Good god, Han. Maybe slow down with that fancy whiskey. You have absolutely no filter when you drink...”

Han merely chuckled before moving his drink to his other hand, out of Leia’s reach, and hugging his wife around the waist. “I have no filter, period. Doesn’t matter if I’m drinking or not. It’s one of the many hundreds of reasons you love me, Princess.”

Rey gave Han a bashful smile. “Honestly, you see a lot more of his bare ass than I do. I’m too busy trying to remember my lines and not stumble into the fire to notice.”

Han, Leia and Lando all laughed at this. “Here’s to not stumbling into the fire,” Lando raised his whiskey glass high. “I do not want to think about what _that_ would cost me!”

Rey joined the laughter now, and looked back and forth between Han and Leia. They’d barely been able to keep their hands off one another during the party, and she suspected that if Lando and his expensive whiskey weren’t a consideration, Ben’s parents would be alone somewhere tearing each other’s clothes off. Their unconventional marriage, which seemed to confound their son, suddenly made a _lot_ more sense to Rey.

Speaking of Ben... she glanced surreptitiously around the room and caught sight of him near the bar, engaged in an animated conversation with Luke, Enric and Frantis. _Damn, that man is beautiful_ , Rey mused. He was wearing a shirt in a shimmering grey so dark that it might as well have been black, and a pair of narrow black trousers that clung rather obscenely to his muscular legs. She’d never seen him out in public dressed in much other than the loose capoeira pants he favored. Of course, she’d seen him wearing a lot less around her house, but there was something about those tight black pants that...

_Get a grip, Sutton_. Rey suddenly felt a little too warm, and took a gulp of champagne. She instantly regretted it, as the alcohol seemed to make things worse. She was also beginning to rethink the decision not to have more to eat, but she’d worried that there wasn’t enough room in this dress for her _and_ a meal.

“Excuse me, I might just step out and get a little fresh air.”

“Of course, Rey,” Leia murmured. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m perfectly fine, promise. Just flagging a bit. I’ll be right back.”

As Rey headed toward the front door, Leia looked after her worriedly. “That poor sweet girl. She must be exhausted. I’m long past my second wind, this is closer to my fifth. Can’t imagine what it’s like for her.” Leia took a long sip of her gimlet. “I swear to god, someday soon I’m going to do a show that is less than six hours long.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Princess.” Han lowered his hand and gave his wife a playful smack on her ass, ignoring both Leia’s glare and Lando’s knowing smile.

\-----

Rey leaned against the railing in front of the entrance, pulling her coat closer against the chilly October night. She turned at the sound of the door opening; she hoped it was Ben, seeking her out at last. She was dismayed to see Hux instead, as the look on her face must have made clear.

“You needn’t look so displeased to see me, Miss Sutton. Just sneaking out for a drag.” He waved his cigarette, as if he thought perhaps she was deeply stupid and in need of a visual aid. 

“I am certain you were hoping I was Ben,” Hux added with a knowing sneer. 

Rey’s eyes snapped to his face.

Hux ignored the look and continued, tapping his cigarette slowly and deliberately on a slender black and silver lighter and then lighting it.

“My dear Rey, I cannot begin to thank you for keeping our boy happy.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Our boy Ben. He’s been damned near delightful to be around ever since you two began fucking, a real pleasure to work with. I am in your debt.” He gave the slightest bow of his head.

Rey let out a startled laugh. “Oh, no, we’re not -“

“There’s absolutely no need to play coy, Rey. Your secret is safe with me. Trust me, it’s the very least I can do.” 

Hux took a long drag of his cigarette, but his cool green eyes never left Rey’s. “Ben was a miserable twat after Bazine left. Absolutely impossible to be around. They’d been going at it like a couple of randy teenagers, as I’m sure you’ve heard. In any event, I just wanted to express my undying gratitude.” 

Hux leaned toward Rey just a bit, and lowered his voice. “Thank god you were able to assume _all_ of Bazine’s roles so smoothly.”

Rey’s mouth went dry. 

“I am not fucking Ben Solo.” Rey enunciated every word clearly, in a calm voice that she barely recognized as her own.

Hux’s sneer deepened. “Oh. Yes. Right. Of course you’re not.”

Rey turned and fled back into the theatre, her hands shaking. She looked down at her empty glass and strode toward the bar. She handed the flute to the bartender and snapped her borrowed evening clutch open.

“Whiskey, neat.” Rey ordered, shoving a $20 bill in the tip jar. "And keep 'em coming."

She caught the smirk on the bartender's face and added another $20. "Please."

\-----

“Leia, have you seen Rey?” 

Han was helping Leia into her coat as Ben rushed up to them. Getting into the coat was taking far longer than it should have, since Han kept trying to cop a feel.

“Son, why can’t you call us Mom and Dad? Why do you have to call us ‘Han’ and ‘Leia’ like you’re the broody teenager in a 90’s rom-com?”

Leia turned helpfully to her husband. “You do see how you’ve just answered your own question, right?”

Han and Leia burst into laughter, while Ben looked on with mounting frustration.

“Have you seen Rey?” he repeated slowly, using a tone more appropriate for a pair of misbehaving children than for his purported parents.

Leia attempted a more serious expression. She reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from her son’s forehead. “I think I saw her heading over toward the Space Theatre a little while ago. Try there. I know she’ll be happy to see you.”

Ben turned and strode quickly off in the direction of the other theatre as his parents watched him go.

“Something more there than meets the eye, Leia? Has our boy found himself a girl?”

“God, I hope so. They are so good together.” Leia drew her arm around Han’s waist. “He loves her, you know.”

“I know. I saw the way he was looking at her earlier.” Han smiled, then chuckled suggestively. “Let’s get outta here. I’ve got a nice big bed at that swanky hotel next door.”

“You have your moments, Han Solo. Not many of them, but you do have them.”

\-----

Ben did find Rey. Eventually. She was curled up - to the degree that her skintight black dress would allow her - on the carpeted walkway between the first and second sections of seats in the darkened theatre. He could just make out her form, her bare arms and legs illuminated by the ghost light that stood on the otherwise vacant stage. 

She had an empty glass in her hand and a lost, sad look in her eyes.

“Rey?” Ben murmured softly as he knelt down next to her. “What are you doing here by yourself? I've been looking everywhere for you, sweet girl.”

Rey sat up and looked at him with a startled expression. “What’d you call me?” she whispered.

“I don’t -”

“You called me _sweet girl_ , just like you did in the dream.”

“Rey, are you drunk?”

“No. Yes. A little.” She folded her legs under her and stood uncertainly. He reached out a hand to help her up. “You called me _sweet girl_ ,” she repeated, blinking up at him. 

Ben had almost forgotten about that. Not the dream, that was burned into his memory. But the things he’d called her. His _sweet girl_. His _good girl_. His... _love._

“Rey, let’s get you home to bed.”

“No. Yes. Only if you come with me.”

Ben chose to ignore this. “Rey, sweetheart, are you on your bike?” 

She nodded. “Were you planning to ride home in that dress?” 

She shrugged.

Ben sighed. “Come on, I’ll get you home on the light rail.”

He picked up her coat and her evening bag from the floor. When he stood up, Rey took them both from him. 

“No, thank you,” she replied sharply. She suddenly didn’t seem very drunk at all.

“Rey, what is it? Did I do something to make you angry? I’ve been looking for you for the better part of an hour, you know.”

Ben reached out and gently brushed a tendril of hair from her face, and suddenly she forgot why she was upset. The touch of his fingers made Rey’s stomach flutter. 

Ben leaned toward her slightly, and before she could stop herself Rey moved to make up the distance, planting a frantic kiss on his firm, full mouth. Ben jerked his head back in surprise, and Rey’s eyes flew open wide. 

She saw the look of shock in his eyes. And the warm, fluttery feeling in her stomach turned to ice.

_Oh, god, he doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want_ me.

The muscles and tendons in Rey’s slender neck corded with effort as she choked down the sob that threatened to escape. She stumbled back a few steps and whispered, “I… I am so sorry.” 

Tears of humiliation stung the back of her eyes and she panicked - crying right now, crying in front of _him_ , that would just make a bad situation worse. 

For a moment, she’d thought, _maybe I can have what I wish for, just for this one time. M_ _aybe if he fucked Bazine, he’d be willing to fuck me too_.

_I thought wrong._

Rey turned and fled from the theatre. Just as Ben reached out for her. 

As he watched her retreating back, Ben cursed under his breath. He’d been momentarily dumbstruck, so shocked by the suddenness of the kiss that he couldn’t make his brain work. By the time he’d regained his senses, she was gone, leaving just a faint tingle where her perfect mouth had met his. 

“Rey!” he called out as he ran out of the theatre after her. Then he stopped short, remembering the look of panic in her eyes. 

_She ran away._

_And I am being an idiot._

Clearly Rey had regretted the kiss the moment it happened. She’d had too much to drink and then she’d regretted it. If he went after her now, she’d have to explain her obvious lapse in judgment, and he’d be humiliated and she’d be embarrassed and... 

If he went after her now, Ben reasoned, he’d just make a bad situation worse. Ben walked slowly through the lobby, hoping to catch a final glimpse of her, just to see for himself that she was alright.

She was gone.

\-----

Rey curled up under the counter of her tiny dressing room. She’d made a nest of blankets and a pillow for herself during previews, and she’d been grateful to find opportunities throughout the show to power nap. 

She wasn’t drunk now - at least, not as drunk as she wished she was - but Rey didn’t trust herself to get home safely on the light rail in her current state. This would have to do for the night. It was more cramped than cozy, she thought, _but god knows I’ve slept in worse places._

She’d come down to the dressing rooms to change clothes, for all the world like she was some stupid consignment store Cinderella fleeing the ball, secretly hoping that her prince might follow. No such luck. Her lovely, sexy dress - the one she’d worn for Ben, if she was honest - hung on the back of the door. He’d avoided her all night, he’d never said a word about how she looked, and when she’d finally worked up the courage...

Rey pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. _When did you get so goddamn stupid?_ She had humiliated herself enough for one night, getting all dressed up and waiting for some man, like some dumb, needy _girl_. She wasn’t going to embarrass herself further by crying about it.

So what if he’d ignored her, and then he’d called her _sweet girl_ ? So what if he was willing to sleep with Bazine, and then he wouldn’t even _kiss_ her? 

So what if he didn’t come after her when she ran away?

Rey had to admit that last one stung the most. 

As angry as she was at herself, she had to accept that there was a small, sad, secret part of her that wished Ben would have followed after her, if only to see that she was alright. 

_That’s your baggage, little girl, not his_ , she scolded herself. _You are nothing to him, no one_.

Rey burrowed further into her blankets, and screwed her eyes shut. And for the first time since she really was a little girl, Rey cried herself to sleep.

\-----

Phasma and Beaumont Kin sat together in a quiet corner of the lobby, nursing their drinks and watching as the caterers finished cleaning up. 

“Well, that show came together better than I thought it would,” Kin murmured. “I gotta tell you, when I saw it during dress rehearsals I was skeptical.”

“Damned with faint praise...” Phasma responded with a smile.

“Oh, no! It’s actually... don’t get me wrong, I was always sure it was going to be an entertaining 12 hours at the theatre. But I found it surprisingly moving and -”

“Really leaning in on the faint praise routine. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to neg me by negging my show, Kin.”

Kin turned a few shades of red and took a gulp of his drink. “When did you change the end of Play 7?”

“Oh, that... well, Rey suggested it during the last week of previews.”

“You are shitting me.”

“I am shitting you not, Beaumont Kin. All Rey’s idea. I was absolutely against it at first, and now I don’t see how the play would work without it.”

“No question,” Kin leaned forward slightly. “That moment of total vulnerability, it somehow shifts the context of the rest of the plays accordingly. It’s really haunting and... wow, good for Rey.”

“Rather nice piece you wrote about her, Kin. I am wont to observe that critics are full of shit, but your story was surprisingly sincere for a puff piece.”

“Oh, well, that’s kind of you to say.” He ran a hand shyly through his close cropped dark blond hair. “Had to do a bit of reworking since Rey wanted me to steer clear of her background.”

Phasma nodded, more in sympathy with Kin than Rey. “Not sure why she thinks dropping out of college was such a black mark...”

“I have no idea. Does anyone really care about that sort of thing?”

“Not where I’m from,” Phasma replied. “No one gives a flying fuck, they just care about what you can do. You lot seem to be obsessed with it here, however.” 

Kin shrugged. “Anyway, I’m not certain leaving Boulder was... well, she really didn’t want it getting out about being an orphan and -”

“A what?” Phasma turned to Kin with a look of surprise.

“Yes, she said she was an orphan, and her foster mother died so she had to drop out of school.”

Phasma stared intently at her drink, her brow furrowing. “Christ. And all this time I thought she’d had an affair with her college professor and it had gone awry or... I don’t know, something equally mundane or melodramatic. I had no idea. The more I got to know Rey, the less I could picture her running away like that. Now it makes a bit more sense, I suppose.”  
  


“Please don’t tell her I said anything. I mean, she shared it in confidence, off the record, and we should respect her privacy.”

She turned to Kin with a small smile and swallowed the rest of her drink. “I agree, we should respect her privacy.” 

Her smile broadened, and she cocked an eyebrow. “What do you say, Mr. Kin? Would you like to get out of here and disrespect my privacy?”

Beaumont Kin - the man of letters once named one of America’s 12 most influential theatre critics by American Theatre magazine - somehow couldn’t find the words to reply. He simply nodded happily and followed her out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to the friend who brought a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle on a weekend trip to the mountains. Between four of us, we killed the bottle in a single evening, and I had no idea what we were really drinking. Just like Rey, I'd have been perfectly happy knocking back some Jim Beam Black. But I have always wanted to walk into a bar, slap some cash down, and say "keep 'em coming"...
> 
> The "ghost light" referenced here is a common practice in theatres. A single work light is left on a bare stage, ostensibly for safety purposes, but also to appease the spirits that live in the theatre.
> 
> And my friend really was named one of America’s 12 most influential theatre critics by American Theatre magazine and then let go by the morons at the Denver Post within the year.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**_"The only thing worse than being hurt is everyone knowing that you're hurt.”_ **

_-Carrie Fisher_

Rey made her way home early Sunday morning, her Victoria Beckham dress carefully stowed in her messenger bag as she rode through the chilly pre-dawn streets out of downtown. She stood in the shower, turned the water on, just this side of too hot to bear, and stayed there until it had run cold. She honestly couldn’t remember if she’d even washed her hair.

She put on her oldest flannel pajamas and crawled under the covers, where she spent the next three days hiding out. Huddled there under the eaves, she ignored calls and texts from Finn and Poe and Rose. Even Kaydel texted Rey, and Kaydel _despised_ texting, having concluded through experience that it was a substandard method for relaying sarcasm.

There were no messages from Ben for Rey to ignore.

She told herself she’d earned the rest, and yet she somehow couldn’t manage more than an hour or two of sleep at a time. She’d wake up with a start from dreams of Ben and Bazine, their long limbs entwined. 

She spent hours torturing herself by googling both actors, scrolling through Bazine’s carefully curated Instagram and reading reviews of Ben’s performances going back to his early 20s.

She did this while eating several Totino’s Party Pizzas. The irony of the name was not lost on her. 

And at the end of three days, thoroughly appalled by her behavior, Rey showered again, this time with purpose, masturbated to thoughts of Tom Hardy’s Heathcliff, hopped on her bike, and headed to the theatre for her noon call. 

“Hello, everyone!” Rey walked into the shared dressing room, brimming with false cheer. “What a great opening night party! I drank _way_ too much champagne!” 

Larma turned in her chair and gave Rey a sympathetic nod. “Good lord, me too. Thank god we had three days off to recover properly. Bloody open bar. I can never say no to a free drink.” Wrobie snorted. “That’ll be enough out of you, love! You drank far more than I did.”

Wrobie put her hands up. “Guilty as charged. It was awfully good champagne, though...”

“Lando definitely knows his liquor. Right, Ben?” Rey looked across the room and gave him a brilliant smile. “Did he share any of his good bourbon with you?”

Ben, who had been listening to this exchange with interest while pretending very hard not to, perked up at his name. “He did offer, yes,” he replied with a smile of his own. “I declined, much as it pained me. I would have enjoyed a finger or two of Pappy, but not as much as Han and Lando enjoyed it.”

Rey crossed the room toward him, laughing brightly. “Your parents are an absolute hoot, Ben Solo. They could barely keep their hands off one another!”

Ben’s eyes met hers in the reflection of the mirror, and he gave her a piercing look. She ignored it and continued. “I can see now why they make the whole long-distance thing work. That kind of chemistry is pretty hard to deny.”

“It’s true,” Ben replied, his eyes still fixed on her. “They also drive each other crazy, but there’s no denying true love, I guess.”

Something flashed in Rey’s eyes for a moment, but then he saw the shutters snap closed again. She grinned broadly, then placed her hands on his shoulders and patted him awkwardly. “Alright, see you out there!” She nearly called him _champ_ for good measure, but thought better of it at the last moment.

With that, Rey bounded out of the dressing room the same way she’d come in. And hurried straight back to her little room, tears stinging behind her eyes, her mission accomplished.

_Move along, folks, nothing to see here._

\-----

Ben stewed for three days straight. His black mood was only worsened by his father’s presence. In a cruel twist of fate, his parents were getting along better than he could ever remember, and seemed intent on rubbing his face in it. They demanded his attendance at brunch on Sunday, and proceeded to behave more like loved-starved teenagers than a married couple of nearly four decades. 

This was followed by a small dinner party at Lando’s on Monday night. _At least Luke is here_ , Ben thought, possibly for the first time in his life. His optimism proved to be premature, and ultimately unfounded. Lando and Luke only encouraged his parents’ inappropriate behavior, as the four of them reminisced at great length and in excruciatingly graphic detail, while Lando’s improbably young wife made advances and Ben deflected them. _How can someone be simultaneously overdressed and underdressed_? Ben wondered as he maneuvered himself deftly out of Christine’s clutches.

The way Han and Leia pawed at each other on the drive back downtown was positively indecent, but what really rankled Ben was how they seemed to genuinely enjoy one another’s company. He didn’t know _why_ this bothered him, which just served to make him feel guilty. About what, he couldn’t say.

Tuesday, he begged off when Leia asked if he’d like to accompany them to the airport. “You two should definitely have some privacy for your farewells,” Ben responded, suppressing an eyeroll.

He and Han said their goodbyes in the tastefully appointed lobby of the Hotel Teatro, with an awkward, back-slapping, throat-clearing man hug. _God, we are such a cliché_ , Ben realized with chagrin. Now that Han was leaving, he found himself wishing they’d gotten more time together.

“Son... let me know when your next play opens. I really want to make it out to London to see it. If I can.”

Ben blinked at his father in disbelief. “I... sure, of course. I’ll let you know. Do you mind if I ask - where is this coming from?”

Han smiled ruefully. “Well, I realize I haven’t seen you much. And now that I’ve seen _all_ of you - _ow_! No need to slug me, Leia - I just...” He paused and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d just really like to see what you do next. You’re really something in this play, kid. Just thought you should know.”

“Dad, I... thanks.” Ben felt a sharp twinge in his chest, but he gave Han a tentative smile. “That... thanks.”

Leia rolled her eyes. “Dear god, you two are only this emotionally constipated with one another, I swear...”

Han grinned broadly, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Oh, I don’t know if that’s true, Leia. Seems like Ben here is holding onto some other stuff pretty tight right now.” He turned back to Ben, and his face grew more serious, but the knowing gleam in his eye remained. “You need to seal the deal with that little girl Rey. You will regret it every moment of your life if you don’t.”

Leia wordlessly slipped an arm around Han’s waist and placed a hand firmly on his chest, then looked up at Ben.

Ben looked at his parents, his own smile disappearing. “There’s no deal to seal. We’re just friends. And colleagues. Rey doesn’t feel that way about me and -” 

Han scoffed, and Leia snorted. “You got a lot to learn about women, Ben. I don’t know what we were thinking, sending you off to live with your bachelor uncle like we did, but the chickens are sure coming home to roost now...”

Leia tightened her grip on Han’s waist and looked up at him warningly.

“Alright, we better get a move on, I wanna see if I can get my seat moved to an exit row.” Han bent to pick up his battered leather duffle. “Take care of your mother, kid, and I’ll see ya soon.”

“Yeah, Dad. See ya soon.”

His parents turned to leave, but Ben caught his mother’s parting glance as she murmured, “But more of this anon.”

That’s what Ben was afraid of.

\-----

Finn declined to see the show with Poe and Kaydel - and really, who could blame him, he'd sat through the monstrosity a dozen times - but he promised to meet up with them for drinks on Thursday night after they saw Part Two. The Colorado Ballet was loading in _The Nutcracker_ , and he was held up at the Opera House overseeing it. 

Poe, Rey, and Kaydel headed across the street to the bar at the Hotel Teatro. “If you think I’m gonna put up with Artie’s goddamn short pours at the Galleria, you got another thing coming. We are going to The Nickel and celebrating, my treat.” 

“Kay,” Poe replied cautiously. “I don’t think _short pour_ means what you think it means.”

“I bartended my way through college, little man, you think I don’t know from a short pour?”

“Just... remind me to pull up the Urban Dictionary entry when we get there.” 

Rey laughed indulgently at the pair. She was happy to skip the bar at the DCPA in favor of swankier surroundings. And it was far less likely that she’d run into any fellow cast members in the upscale bar. _Any_ of them. Artie frequently forgot to charge for entire rounds of drinks, weak though they may be.

“Fantastic look you got going there, sweet Rey.” Kaydel threw her arm possessively around Rey’s waist.

Poe nodded in agreement, taking in her cropped black trousers and bateau neck shirt. “Yes, very _chic_ , very Parisian, very Audrey Hepburn in _Funny Face_.”

“Oui,” nodded Kay.

“Oui,” deadpanned Poe.

Rey giggled. “I can’t take credit for any of it, this is all Rose’s doing. She’s got kind of a Pygmalion thing that I did _not_ know about. It’s actually sort of scary.”

“Well,” Poe said seriously. “In Rose’s defense, I think we were _all_ a little tired of the scuzzy band t-shirts.” He dodged a slug in the arm from Kay. “It was almost like you were dressing to be invisible, Dollface. This is a - well, it’s a nice change. You look gorgeous.”

Rey smiled shyly but said nothing. It wasn’t like she could take the credit anyway.

They settled into a round table at the corner and ordered their drinks. Poe and Kaydel shrieked with laughter over the new definition of “short pour”, which had something to do with pulling out halfway through ejaculation...

And then they were silent. Rey was worried. These two were never silent.

Rey drew a deep breath. “Alright. Let’s have it.”

Poe took a long sip of his drink. “Well. Full disclosure?” Rey nodded. “I really wanted to hate this thing.” 

Rey started to interrupt but he raised his hand to stop her. 

“I love you, and I love Finn, but I was just so goddamn resentful of all the time and the money - and the sheer amount of talent - all dedicated to this _thing_. Never mind the fact that we have to put off _Liaisons_ for you to tour. Never mind the fact that Finn has been too exhausted for the better part of the last eight months to put out. Never mind the fact that this fucking play is all anyone can talk about right now.”

Rey reached a hand across the table and Poe took it. “I really wanted to hate this show, and I fucking loved it.” He reached out with his other hand and gripped hers. “And _you_? My god, Rey, you were absolutely incredible.” 

Rey started to draw her hand back in embarrassment, but Poe held it tighter. “No, I mean it, Rey. Ask Kay if you don’t believe me.”

“It’s true, I swear. Last night, he couldn’t shut up about you during the dinner break. And then when we saw you and Ben tonight in  Cassandra  \- I cried straight through the last ten minutes.”

Kaydel paused and leaned in, her expression serious. “I gotta come back and see it again, I was crying too hard and I couldn’t see Ben’s ass well enough through all the tears. Maybe I’ll sit house left next time for a better view?”

Poe chortled. “Right there with you, Connix. Front row.” 

He turned back to Rey, too late to see the look in her eyes. Kay saw it. But before she had a chance to ask, Poe plowed ahead. “Don’t get me wrong, I had issues with some of the design choices. The costumes were all over the place -”

“And Larma Dacy looked like Bea Arthur from _Maude_ in her Hecuba wig,” Kay interjected.

Poe laughed and nodded. “And I wish the use of the projections was more consistent, they used them just frequently enough to be distracting. But it was all just so goddamn... _good_ , for lack of a better word.”

Rey smiled shyly. “God, I am so glad. I promised myself I was going to ignore all the reviews and just concentrate on what Luke and Phasma say. But I really, really wanted you two to like it.” Her smile deepened. “How pissed would you be if you had to push _Liaisons_ back and this sucked?”

“Oh, super pissed!” Kaydel crowed. “But we knew _you_ were not going to suck, no matter what. Finn has been feeding us inside information for weeks now!”

“So, speaking of _Liaisons_ , how are plans going for a spring show?”

Poe and Kaydel happily detailed their search for the ideal show while Rey tuned out, nodding every so often and laughing when it seemed appropriate. The last two days had simply wrung her out; between blithely pretending that nothing was wrong offstage, and focusing intently to make sure nothing went wrong onstage, she just didn’t have much left in the tank. One more drink after Finn got there, she decided, and then she was planning to bounce.

Miraculously, Finn arrived just a few minutes later. In a terrible mood. 

“Babe, let’s get some food in you, you look about ready to drop.”

“I need a drink first.” Finn dropped his head in his hands. “Rey, I know I’ve bitched about you and that cast of high-maintenance divas for the last seven months, but at least none of you have stage mothers.”

Rey laughed and Kaydel waved for the waiter. “You poor baby... Dr. Connix is here, and we’ll get you fixed right up.”

Finn looked up and smiled wanly. “Just start an IV drip, Doc. So tell me, how’d the show go? What’s the verdict?”

Another round of drinks and a thorough review of the show, and Rey had tuned out again. The sound of her name brought her around again. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Poe was asking how you like working with Ben and -” Kay stopped when she saw the flash of pain in Rey’s eyes, but neither Poe nor Finn seemed to notice.

“Yeah, I’m curious how you handled the nudity. I suppose we’re going to have to figure that out when we do _Liaisons_ , right? Just wondered what it was like working with an intimacy coordinator.”

“We didn’t have one.”

“Seriously?” Poe looked gobsmacked. “That’s got to be some kind of code violation.”

“There really wasn’t time. We just added it last week.”

Now it was Kaydel’s turn to be shocked. “Jesus. How they hell could they do that to you, Rey?”

Rey looked down at her drink and shrugged. “It was my idea.”

This revelation was met by stunned silence, and then a burst of laughter. “Oh, I am _so_ stealing this for the next production, Poe!”

“No, Kay, I’m not going to let you bully your next male lead into stripping. But seriously, Rey, what a major flex. Proud of you, girl.” Poe clinked her nearly empty glass.

“Speaking of Ben,” Finn interjected. “Did you see him on the other side of the bar? Looks like he and Leia are having dinner.”

“Oh, I’ll go see if they want to join us. I _miss_ Leia!” Rey put a hand on Kay’s arm to stop her.

“No!” Rey looked panicked for a moment, but schooled her features quickly. “I mean, no... we should let them be. Han just left town yesterday, and I’m sure Ben and Leia have a lot to talk about.”

“Everything alright with you two?” Finn asked.

“Totally fine,” Rey replied brightly. “Besides, I’m wiped out, I’ll probably just head home.”

Ignoring Kaydel’s protests, Rey left some cash on the table, and then serpentined through the bar to the side exit in order to avoid being seen by Ben and Leia on her way out. Dashing against the light, she picked up her bike and her belongings at the theatre and made her way back to Five Points.

It had been nearly 70 degrees every day for the last week, a true Indian Summer. It was almost midnight when Rey hopped on her bike, and already closer to the 40s, but she was dressed warmly enough for the evening and decided to take the scenic route. She hoped the few extra miles might help to clear her head and wear her out enough to finally sleep.

Rey rode down 15th Street, through the packs of fuckboys and herds of girls in dangerously high heels that roamed Lodo. She turned up Wewatta Street and pedaled behind the train station and the baseball stadium, darting up one block and down the next to avoid the crowds of people. The holiday lights wouldn’t be up for a few more weeks, but it felt like the volume of visitors to downtown was already building. Rey sighed. Her relationship with the holiday season was a complicated one. 

Rey cut across on Park Avenue West back to her own neighborhood, the muscles in her legs starting to burn pleasantly. A few more weeks, she thought with a tinge of regret, and she’d likely have to trudge over to the light rail stop instead of biking to the theatre. She’d ridden through plenty of bad weather, but it was risky, especially early in the season when everyone in Denver seemed to forget how to drive in snow. And if she got hurt, Phasma would probably kill her.

Chuckling at the thought of Phasma sneaking into her hospital room to smother her with a pillow, Rey unlocked the garage to secure her bike. She stood for a moment in shock. The lights in her backyard reflected off a second bike parked there. 

An expensive road bike.

Slowly, Rey locked up and made her way through the yard. A large, dark form moved from the couch to a standing position. 

“Did you pick the lock on my garage?”

Ben shook his head. “Paul and David were out walking their dogs when I rode up. They let me in with their spare keys.”

“How hospitable of them.” Rey stepped onto the deck, taking off her messenger bag. “I’ll be sure to thank -” 

Rey doesn’t get the rest of the sentence out. Ben strides to her and takes her face in his hands in one fluid motion, crushing her lips under his.

It is Rey’s turn to step back in shock, her eyes wide. “Ben, what are you-” 

He stops her again, this time far more gently, pushing his fingers through her hair as he kisses her. She sighs at the feeling of his lips on hers, and he takes advantage of the moment, moving his tongue searchingly past her open lips to tangle with hers. Her hands move underneath his arms, muscle memory taking over as she clutches him by the shoulder blades. It feels so familiar, so perfect…

Rey pulls away as she realizes she is mirroring the blocking from their nude scene. In a moment of panic, it dawns on her that she’s never really kissed anyone other than Matt offstage. She doesn’t even know how to kiss.

“Ben,” she says again, her voice shaking. “What are you doing?”

“What I should have done the other night, Rey,” he whispers, his hands moving away from her face to circle her waist and pull her close. He leans down and his mouth hovers near the shell of her ear. “I’m kissing you back. The way I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first night I met you.”

Rey shivers at the sound of his voice low in her ear, his breath ghosting the fine hairs on her neck. “You wanted... since the first...” She can’t seem to form a coherent sentence.

Ben’s arms tighten around her waist as he alternately kisses and suckles her neck. “Since that first night over margaritas... I’ve wanted to tear your clothes off... and taste you.” He pauses, concentrating on the sensitive hollow between her neck and shoulders. 

“Every part of you... every soft, sweet... mmmmpphhh...” Rey interrupts him this time, her trepidation replaced by naked, terrifying want. She slots her lips insistently against his and demands entrance with her tongue, mirroring his movements with her own. They tangle together, lips and tongues and hands, kissing each other hungrily for several minutes, until Ben reaches down and cups her ass insistently. She responds, pushing up off her toes to let him lift her, then wrapping her legs around his waist. 

They both gasp at the feeling of her rapidly dampening core making contact with his stiffening cock. Ben lets out a strangled moan, then a single growling syllable. “Bed.”

Rey fumbles for her keys, still clutched in her hand. He takes them and unlocks the door with trembling hands. He carries her through the kitchen as though she weighs nothing, dropping both of their bags as he moves purposely toward the bedroom.

Her bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drinks with friends after the show - what could be better... This is a delicate dance, for sure. If you're the friend in attendance at the post-mortem, you want to be sincere without being too forthcoming - with either praise or criticism - especially early in a run. And if you're in the show, you don't want to come off as desperate for approbation. Usually best to compliment the lighting design and move on to less dangerous topics.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**_“I was a lucky girl—without the self-esteem to feel it, or the wherewithal to enjoy what there was to enjoy of it and then let go.”_ **

_-Carrie Fisher_

Ben lays Rey carefully on the bed, with his lips on hers and his hands in a vice grip circling her waist. He hovers over her, caging her with his huge arms as he slowly works his mouth down her neck, pausing again to nuzzle and suck at that sweet juncture between her neck and shoulders. Rey arches slightly with a soft moan, her breasts pressing into his chest insistently as her legs fall open and she begins to grind against his hip, desperate for contact.

“So demanding, sweet girl,” he murmurs into the hollow of her throat. “There’s no rush. I plan to take all night with this.”

Rey moans, louder this time, and he moves a hand slowly up under her shirt to trace a nipple through her thin black bra. She wishes for a moment that she’d worn something sexier than her serviceable boy shorts and matching bralette, and then remembers that she does not own anything sexier...

This thought is interrupted by Ben tugging insistently on her shirt. “I want to see you, Rey. All of you.”

Rey smiles, her dimples deepening. “You see me naked onstage every night, Ben Solo.”

Ben sits back a bit. “I see Cassandra naked every night. And I don’t even really _see_ her naked, I just look into her eyes and focus on the moment.”

Rey nods. She knows exactly what he means. Somehow, she never really looks anywhere but at Agamemnon’s face before she steps into their embrace and closes her eyes. Though she _has_ stared at his naked torso during Telephus more than is probably appropriate, she realizes that she couldn’t describe him from the waist down if forced at gunpoint. Hell, the blue-hairs in the Denver Center Theatre Company subscriber base probably know more about his naked body than she does...

Shaking her head to get rid of that thought, Rey slips her shirt up and off, followed by her bralette, and then looks tentatively up at Ben. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not... I’m not... I mean, they’re not much to look at.”

Ben answers her with a shake of his own head. “They are perfect. _You_ are perfect, sweet girl.” He runs his thumbs slowly over her naked breasts, smiling as her nipples pebble beneath his touch. “Just perfect.”

“Your turn,” she murmurs.

Ben reaches back with one hand to yank his t-shirt over his head, and the muscles in his arms ripple as he exposes his torso. It is a gesture so sexy that Rey feels lightheaded. 

He leans down over her again to capture her lips in a kiss, and the shock of their naked upper bodies touching draws a gasp from Rey. _Strange_ , she thinks, how completely different he feels - how they feel together - _here_ rather than onstage...

Ben’s mouth moves back down her neck, nuzzling at the hollow of her throat again before descending lower and drawing a pebbled nipple into his warm, waiting mouth. They moan in unison.

“God, they’re like sweet, beautiful little berries,” he murmurs, circling first one and then the other with the tip of his tongue. 

He continues to flick the one nipple with his thumb, and Rey gasps when he opens his mouth to draw most of her other breast into his mouth. It sends a ripple of pleasure straight to her cunt, and she arches again, desperate to be closer to him.

Ben continues to lick and suck at her breasts, peering up at Rey through a forelock of jet black hair. He smiles as he sees the telltale flush creeping across her chest.

“May I - “ Ben moves a large finger suggestively underneath the waist of her boyshorts.

Rey nods, and then wriggles helpfully to free herself of her trousers and underthings. She draws a breath and holds it, wondering again at how shy she feels in front of a man who has seen her naked a dozen times now.

“My god, you are so beautiful,” Ben breathes out, at the same moment she does, then trails his mouth across her stomach. “You taste so good, sweet girl. I wonder if you are this sweet everywhere...”

He looks up at Rey again, waiting for a sign to proceed. He is being so gentle with her. No one has ever touched her like this, no one has ever made her feel like this. 

Rey smiles again and gives him a small nod.

And like that, Ben’s gentleness is gone. He is a man on a mission now, as he rears back and draws her legs apart firmly, burying his head between them and plundering her cunt thoroughly with his tongue. He laves with the flat of his tongue from her tightly puckered hole all the way up to her clit, pausing to flick it with the pointed tip of his tongue before plunging it deep inside her again.

He continues, slowly and deliberately, alternating between sucking at her aching bud and licking through her swollen folds. The pressure against her clit is unrelenting, his nose making contact as his tongue presses as far inside her as he can go. As he works through her without mercy, Rey can feel the mounting pressure of an orgasm building deep in her belly. Her cunt flutters in anticipation, and Ben moans hungrily as he devours her. The vibration rips through Rey’s core.

Rey is used to coming. She is good at it. It is a tool to her, as essential as breathing exercises or stretching. It is utilitarian, and she is adept at quick, efficient orgasms. She is therefore completely unprepared for the sensation that tears through her as Ben feasts on her. The familiar tightening in her belly is accompanied by another completely new feeling. 

Panicked, Rey scrambles to push herself away from Ben. He merely tightens his grip around her thighs and plunges his impossibly long tongue deeper into her channel as it starts to clench around him. She is unable to stop the warm gush of fluid that spills forth, and to her horror, Ben doesn’t pull away. He laps desperately at her like he is afraid to miss a drop.

Ben raises his head finally when he realizes that Rey has gone quiet. Her eyes are screwed shut, and her fists are gripping the bedding tightly. He lifts himself and settles alongside her. He brushes a stray lock of hair from her face.

“Rey, my sweet girl, I am so sorry. Did I hurt you? Was I too rough?”

Rey’s eyes remain tightly shut, and she shakes her head. 

“I just couldn’t stop myself, I’ve never tasted anything that sweet, and the way you came in my mouth was -”

Rey cautiously opens one eye and peers at him. “When I... what?”

“When you... don’t tell me you’ve never done that before, Rey.”

The other eye opens. “Done what?”

Ben leans up on an elbow and looks at her. “You’ve never... ejaculated during orgasm?”

Rey’s eyes snap to his. “You mean... you made me squirt?”

“No, I mean you _made yourself_ squirt, Rey. It was incredibly sexy.”

“But... I thought it was a myth, or just something that happens in porn or - I don’t know.” Rey squeezes her eyes shut again. “Goddamn it. I just feel like a fool right now. I can’t decide which is worse - believing that I peed, or realizing that I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.” She presses her lips together in frustration. “I might as well be a virgin.”

Ben pulls her to his bare chest, then draws a blanket over them both and strokes her hair. “Rey, sweet girl. Do you have any idea what it means to me that you trust me this much?”

Rey buries her head in his chest and shakes her head.

“I know that you haven’t -” Ben pauses for a moment, and puts his hand under her chin, gently tilting it up and looking into her eyes. “I know that you don’t let people get this close to you very often. I know it probably scares the shit out of you. I feel it too. But I want you to know that you can trust me. I want to take this slowly.”

Rey lets out a long, shuddering breath.

“And I’m sorry if I rushed things just now. I just - I’ve been thinking about how you would taste, wondering what it would be like looking up at you from between your beautiful legs, and I couldn’t help myself. I promise to show more restraint in the future.”

Rey peers up at him from underneath her lashes. “I hope you don’t mean that, Ben Solo. That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever felt.” A smile spreads slowly across her face. “And I mean to return the favor. I have no idea what I am doing, but I promise I’m good at taking direction.”

The thought of her mouth around his cock, her eyes gazing up at him for instruction, makes Ben so hard he aches. 

_Plenty of time for that_ , he thinks, his arms tightening around her as she sinks into him.

_There’s not enough time_ , she thinks, as she nestles closer to his chest and closes her eyes.

\-----

Rey awakens first. During the night, Ben must have slipped out of bed to remove his pants and pull the covers up over them. She burrows a little deeper under the duvet before rolling over slowly to look at him. He is sleeping peacefully, a small smile playing on his lips, and Rey wonders at how much younger he looks in his sleep.

She thinks back to the events of last night with a tinge of remorse. He’d been so generous and sweet, and she’d repaid him by making a mess all over him and then fucking off to sleep. _Well, this seems like an opportune time to make amends_ , she thinks, slipping stealthily beneath the covers.

Rey comes face to face with his crotch and begins to reconsider. He is already half-erect, and she can see the outline of his cock clearly through his black boxer briefs. It is... impressive. But Rey is nothing if not determined, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. 

Surely she can... surmount this. 

_I know the basics_ , she thinks, trying to muster up the courage. _No teeth. Use your hands. How hard can it be_? She slowly, gingerly moves the waist of his briefs down. Ben shifts slightly, but does not wake up. 

Rey pushes them down further, revealing the degree to which she has heretofore underestimated the... situation. She takes a deep, centering breath and lowers her head, licking tentatively at the weeping tip of his cock. It tastes... _good_. Ben whimpers and stirs, but remains asleep. 

Rey wraps a hand around his cock - or nearly all of his cock, as she notes with trepidation that her long, slender fingers do not reach fully around him - and takes the head in her mouth, licking around the ridge like it’s an ice cream cone.

“Rey...” the voice drifts down to her through the covers. “Sweet girl, what exactly do you think you’re doing down there?”

She does not answer as he lifts the duvet, she merely glances up at him as she licks a broad stripe with the flat of her tongue along the underside of his stiffening cock before taking the head back into her mouth. Her eyes remain fixed on his face, searching for indications of what he does and does not like. Thus far, he appears to like all of it.

“God, Rey... your mouth, it feels so... it’s... yes, good girl, just like that.”

_Good girl_. The endearment makes her cunt flutter in response. 

Rey thinks back to last night, and tries to remember what it was that Ben did that sent her careening over the edge. _He moaned. Inside of me._ Rey redoubles her efforts with her tongue and lets out an experimental sound around the head of his cock. She is rewarded by Ben’s answering groan and an accompanying shudder. She takes that as a good sign, and she hums, hollowing her cheeks as she sucks him in deeper.

Ben whimpers and reaches for her. “Rey, sweet girl, I’m...”

Rey gently bats his hand away and then reaches down to stroke his balls, tightening her grip around the base of his cock with her other hand as she takes as much of him in her mouth as possible. 

“Rey, god... I -” Ben groans and his leg muscles tremble, and Rey’s mouth is filled with his come. She swallows it; it’s salty and slightly bitter on the back of her tongue, but she finds that she likes the taste. She laps gently at the tip of his cock as he finishes, and then slowly pulls his briefs back up to his waist before moving back up to lay next to him.

“Do you have notes?”

Ben chuckles weakly. “Smartass.”  
  


“No, really. I mean... I guess you liked it, given the... outcome,” Rey grins at her own joke. “But I... I want to make you feel good and I just thought I’d let you know that I’m open to feedback.” 

“It was perfect. _You_ are perfect.” Ben wraps his arms around her and pulls her close, humming contentedly. “What a way to wake up.”

“Alright. Just let me know, I will incorporate your notes for next time.”

“Next -” Ben breaks off with a groan and kisses her forehead. “Rey, you are going to be the death of me.”

“Don’t die yet.” Rey snuggles closer. “It’s your turn to make breakfast.”

\-----

Ben is surprised by three things. 

The first: Rey has leftover sausage and peppers in the fridge and the makings of an excellent frittata.

The second: Rey’s demeanor is as amiable and open as he’s ever seen her, with none of the “morning after” awkwardness he might have expected. He has underestimated her. It dawns on him that this is not the first time he’s done so.

The third: He is in love with her. 

As they putter around the kitchen, assembling breakfast and drinking coffee and talking about their plans for the day off, it occurs to Ben that he’s never felt so comfortable, so _at home_ with another person in his life. Rey is everything he could have ever wished for in a partner - she’s beautiful and brilliant, talented and funny, self-reliant and generous.

Rey is also young and has never been in a serious relationship. Neither has he, when it comes to that. He knows without question that he is not “boyfriend” material. Hell, he is barely “booty call” material. Possibly just worthy of “friends with benefits” status, if both the “friends” and the “benefits” do not require too much in the way of time or energy. 

Add a fourth thing to the list: Ben is terrified.

Ben reluctantly shoves aside his misbegotten, dead-end daydreams about a life with Rey. She deserves so much more than he is equipped to give. _Happily-ever-afters do not exist_ , he reminds himself. But he wishes they could, at least for Rey. God knows if anyone deserves it, she does.

Still - and he acknowledges to himself that this is the height of selfishness - Ben does not see how he can give her up. Not yet. They’ve got a little more than a month left of the run, he rationalizes, just 11 more performances here in Denver. Another dozen or so on tour, and a few more at the Barbican. Then they’ll be done. 

And then he can let her move on.

Until then, couldn’t they just enjoy spending time together? Would that be so selfish? Ben can’t bear the thought of seeing her every day for the next eight months and not getting to hold her. Even if it means that letting her go at the end of it will be that much harder. 

He’ll take what he can get, even if he doesn’t deserve it. He is too weak to do otherwise.

\-----

Rey knows three things.

The first: The sight of Ben cooking in her kitchen is very nearly as hot as the sight of him between her legs.

The second: She cannot remember a time when she was this happy. She fairly buzzes as she moves around the kitchen, dressed only in his t-shirt, handing tools and ingredients to Ben almost before he has a chance to ask for them, and whisking eggs as he chops. 

The third: She absolutely does not care what happens next. She is determined to take every last moment of happiness she can get with this man, and when it is over she will be grateful that it ever happened. 

It may be more than she deserves, but in this moment, with this man, she cannot bring herself to care. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went an entire chapter with only one reference to the drama skit? Will wonders never cease... 
> 
> I am guessing that most regional theatres struggle to keep older and more affluent subscribers happy while engaging the next generation of theatre-goers with more risky works. The Denver Center began a program called "Off-Center" a few years back. It's featured several brilliant immersive theatre performances. Before the pandemic, David Byrne from The Talking Heads was here in Denver working on a new piece for them called "Theatre of the Mind". It's been postponed, but I hope not indefinitely. 
> 
> (While he was here, my friend opened a rehearsal room door for Mr. Byrne, then said "this must be the place". Mr. Byrne, to his credit, actually laughed)


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**_“He is like a fantasy. The inevitability of his escape is his most attractive feature.”_ **

_-Carrie Fisher_

The days assume something of a regular rhythm. They perform for two days, and then are dark for a day or two. Sometimes Part Two is performed as a matinee, sometimes in the evening. But always, at the end of the second day of performances, after their characters have returned home together to meet their fate, Ben and Rey go home together too. 

To her house.  
  


With Ben there, it somehow feels like _hers_ now, no longer like Maz’s. Rey has taken to sleeping in the large bed even when he is not there with her, burrowing deep under the covers with the smell of him - of them - in her nose. She closes her eyes, imagining he’s there holding her even when he is not.

It is too chilly now for the back deck, so Ben and Rey spend these evenings together nestled on the loveseat in the front room. It is too small to fit Ben comfortably, but he doesn’t complain. They sit for hours drinking bourbon and telling war stories. They share tales of literal and figurative injuries suffered in school. They muse together about the latest romantic entanglements among the cast and crew, which surprisingly have come to include Phasma and Kin. 

They do not talk about their own entanglement - indeed, Ben and Rey do not even acknowledge that there _is_ an entanglement. Rey does not ask about the past. Ben does not ask about the future. They simply exist, together, chatting easily in their own comfortable cocoon, the living embodiment of Friends with Benefits.

There is a tacit, unspoken understanding, evidently. No fucking. 

They spend these evenings together giving and receiving pleasure with hands and mouths, enthusiastically and without shame. Rey discovers that he comes completely undone when she prods his asshole with a gently insistent finger. She also finds that none of her sex toys have prepared her for the sensation of two of his fingers inside her, thrumming on her g-spot while he thumbs her clit. They are generous with each other, and fall asleep together satisfied and spent.

But Rey and Ben do not fuck. It’s a level of intimacy they don’t dare risk, as if they both know it would open a Pandora’s Box. Rey wants to - desperately. But Ben does not offer, and she does not ask.

Breakfast is the only meal they share together. Their competitive fires stoked, Ben and Rey are intent on outdoing one another. She makes lox, eggs and onions for him, with everything bagels she picks up at Rosenbergs across the street. He makes her eggs benedict with homemade hollandaise and fried polenta instead of muffins - he calls it “eggs benedict cumberbatch”.

And after breakfast is done, he gives her a friendly wave, then hops on his bike or gets on the light rail and rides away. Rey treats each of these departures as a rehearsal for the real thing, in hopes that each little fracture of her heart as she watches him go will make the final break hurt less. 

They continue to treat each other as friends and colleagues at the theatre, and no one is the wiser. Even Leia has ceased to tease Ben and cajole Rey, apparently coming at last to the same conclusion they have - _they’re just friends_.

Reviews have begun to trickle in. Rey follows Phasma’s advice and does not read them, but she understands that they are almost universally raves. Why wouldn’t they be? It’s a big, risky show. Several of the papers have gone into gruesome and gleeful detail regarding the rift between Luke and Snoke, which comes as no surprise. But everyone respects Rey’s wishes and they keep the reviews to themselves.

Toward the last half of November, the cast and crew prepare for another round of what the public relations department has cheerfully marketed as “one day festivals". Just as they did for the press opening, there’s a 9 am call, and the whole show in one go, with curtain call around 11 pm. Everyone girds their loins, but the complaints are generally good-natured, noting that they only have three of these one-day performances to do: the Saturday before Thanksgiving, the Saturday after, and closing night.

Lando gathers the cast and crew for a Thanksgiving feast at his house in the quaintly named Cherry Hills Village. He’d already brought the cast and crew out for an infamously over-the-top 4th of July celebration, and Rey is looking forward to seeing for herself what all the fuss is about. Ben and Rey drive out to the mansion with Luke and Leia; while Leia drives handles the stick shift of the ancient Kia SUV like she's drafting behind the lead car in a NASCAR race, Luke rides in back with Rey and regales her with stories of the early days at the RSC, when everything was evidently very… swinging. 

As they enter the neighborhood, Rey lets out a low whistle. “This... doesn’t look at _all_ like a village.”

Luke laughs. “Oh, wait til you see Lando’s place. Completely - what’s that Yiddish word, Leia?”

“ _Ungapatchka_ ,” Leia replies with a snort. “Lando’s place is the very definition. There is not a single door handle in the place that doesn’t have a tassel on it. But don’t blame Lando, the poor schmuck. It’s his new trophy wife, Christine. She wouldn’t know good taste if it bit her on her bony ass.”

Ben turns to look at Rey. “Haven’t you ever been out this way before?”

“No reason,” Rey murmurs. “Lived here my whole life, and I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been south of 6th Avenue.”

She looks out the window as the McMansions rush by, most already decorated for the holidays. 

_The holidays,_ Rey winces inwardly. She has adamantly refused to think more than a day or two ahead for most of the last glorious month. Suddenly she can think of nothing but the future, and foreboding churns in the pit of her stomach. Rey has a feeling that December is going to be harder than usual. Part of her loves the holidays - the lights, the music, the treats. Everything seems tailored to appeal to the child that Rey never really got to be.

But she never feels the lack of a family in her life quite so keenly as she does this time of year. And after _Tantalus_ closes on the 2nd, it’ll be an entire month without him - or rather, without the show to keep her occupied. 

_Who am I kidding_? Rey knows that December is going to be terrible without Ben. 

They’d spent last night together after the show. On the surface, nothing is changed, but she can swear she feels him slipping slowly away. His touches are becoming more tentative, the look in his eyes more distant. They have just over a week left. And then he’ll be gone, back to his life in London. And Rey will be here, working double shifts at the diner to distract herself, serving gyros and enchiladas and chicken fingers to festively dressed, noisy families before and after performances of _The Nutcracker_ , all the while making up excuses to well-meaning friends who feel obligated to include her in their otherwise private family holiday celebrations.

Rey doubts that Ben will be so eager to pick up... wherever they leave off... when rehearsals resume in January. He’ll be back home, among friends, she reasons, and then on tour where they won’t have the kind of freedom or the kind of privacy they’ve enjoyed here. 

Still. When it comes to making the best of things, Rey is a seasoned expert. Five months in England, seeing the country, making really good money. She will get through December, just as she always has, and... 

She looks up, and sees Leia’s eyes on hers in the rear view mirror, a strange expression in them. 

Leia looks back at the road. “Here we are!” she announces cheerfully. “Luke, take it easy on the tequila.”

\-----

Ben finds the gathering at Lando’s even more exhausting than he’d feared. He spends much of the evening dodging Lando’s wife, who keeps trying to paw at him with her long, manicured nails. Fortunately, she has a high-pitched, nasal voice which heralds her entrance into any room by several moments, and he is able to stay one step ahead of the constant wails of “Have you seen Bennnnnnnn?”

Ben also finds it surprisingly difficult to fly casual around Rey in a social setting. He’s become so used to either being alone with her or seeing her at the theatre. Having to affect an air of friendly indifference is taking rather more acting skill than he thought.

Perhaps it’s his imagination, but he can’t shake the sense that Rey is pulling away from him. He supposes it’s to be expected, under the circumstances. But he’s been toying with the idea of inviting her to London for the holidays. It wouldn’t be hard to get her flight changed from early January to mid-December. He thinks he might even ask Leia and Han to join them at the end of the year. God knows Han has enough miles accrued. Leia could switch her ticket too. Make it a family thing…

No, it’s ridiculous _. I’m ridiculous_ , he chides himself. There is no use building this up into anything more than it is. Even if the thought of spending the Christmas season in London on his own again makes his gut churn. _Yes, that’s all this is_ , he reasons. The early onset of his yearly holiday blues. No need to subject Rey or his parents to the tourist-infested horror show that is London in December, just because he’s feeling lonely and selfish.

Besides, he rather doubts that Rey will want to resume... whatever this is... when they start rehearsals in January. This tour will be the adventure of a lifetime for her, she's so young, he doesn’t want to be in the way...

Ben looks up, and sees his mother crossing the room with a purposeful stride. Not a good sign.

“Alright, Benjamin. Let’s have it.”

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about, Leia,” Ben peers down at her over the lip of his old-fashioned as he takes a sip. “If this is about Lando’s wife -“

Leia waves him off with a derisive snort and a swig of her own cocktail. “Good lord, that woman is a piece of work...” 

Leia crosses her arms and tilts her head questioningly. “No, Benjamin. I want to know what’s going on between you and Rey.”

Ben looks down at his drink. “There’s nothing _going on_ , Leia. We have been over this before, how many times do I have to tell you? Rey and I are good friends.”

Leia cocks an eyebrow.

“Hand to god, Leia. Just friends.” It is the truth, after all. Much as he might wish otherwise.

“Then why are you hiding here in the corner by yourself making moon eyes at her?”

“Mother, I’m not -”

“Whoa. Did you just call me ‘Mother’? Christ on a cracker, this is serious.”

Ben takes a gulp of his old-fashioned, then looks around to make certain no one is in earshot. “Look, Leia...” he drops his voice lower. “Mother. Things are... complicated right now. I want... I mean, I hope that...” He stops, and runs his hand through his hair. “Fuck, I don’t have the first clue what I want. All I know for sure is that I’m head over heels in love with her.”

Ben looks at his mother, stricken. “I have no idea why I said that. Please, can we just -”

Leia raises a hand to his face and brushes an errant lock of hair out his eyes before resting her cool palm on his cheek. “Ben, my sweet boy. You need to tell her how you feel.”

“But she’s not -”

“Hush. You need to tell her, you need to be honest. No matter the outcome, you both deserve to know the truth.” Leia drops her hand. “Besides, I have a pretty good idea how she’ll respond. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, too.”

Leia is prevented from further commentary and purportedly expert advice on his nonexistent love life by the appearance of the subject herself, his uncle in tow.

“Please, can we nope the fuck out of here? If that bougie wife of Lando’s corners me one more time asking inappropriate questions about the size of your hands and feet, I am gonna flip a table.”

\-----

Rey bounds up the stairs toward the business offices. No one but Leia knows about her secret alcove up here. It’s still the best spot for a good warm-up. And truth be told, she’s never really gotten over her insecurities around the rest of the cast. She has a warm-up that works, she doesn’t need to feel judged by people with more training and more experience.

She stops short before turning the corner when she hears the sound of a hushed voice from the hallway. She rolls her eyes, fully prepared to go elsewhere in search of a secluded spot, when she realizes it is Armitage Hux on the phone.

And he is laughing. 

In the two months - nearly three - since she’d met him, she’s never even seen Hux crack a smile. Possibly a sneer. Definitely a smirk. But never an actual smile. So the sound of him laughing is honestly kind of disturbing. And fascinating. 

Against her better judgment, Rey remains rooted to the spot.

“Oh, my good lord, Bazine, that is... What tremendous news! Yes, I... Everyone will be thrilled that you’re returning in time for the tour. What?... No, no... My god, she’s a nobody. She’s terrible, truly. No training, no talent... Certainly, she was an adequate replacement for Jessika when all she was required to do was fill a bikini but - what?...”

Hux lets out what can only be described as a guffaw. “No, poor Solo, he’s had the worst of it. Yes, he’s... oh, trust me, he’s going to be overjoyed to hear the news, no more propping up this talentless nobody and... god, he’s going to be so grateful to have you back again to... well, he’s put up a brave front, god knows, he’d never in a million years admit it, but it’s patently obvious... I shit you not, he’s had to do private coaching just to get her - what? No! Dear god...” 

Hux gives an indecent chuckle. “Definitely not that kind of coaching, I assure you... No, he told me in no uncertain terms, he wouldn’t touch her with a ten foot pole and... yes, something about a hick from a cow town and... yes, exactly! Oh, god, can you imagine?”

Hux snickers again. “Exactly... So when will you be back in the loving bosom of your _Tantalus_ family, darling?... Oh, that’s excellent news... My god, the very idea of doing the tour with her is -” Hux shudders.

“Well, let’s just say she could never hold a candle to you, you brilliant, beautiful creature... she’d be torn apart by the press, poor girl, totally out of her... yes, yes, alright... well, I’ll keep it under my hat for now... speak to you soon. And Bazine... you’ve made my day. No, you’ve made my entire month. I can’t wait to share the glad tidings, you are a Christmas miracle... Yes, darling, see you very soon.”

Rey quickly backed up, her eyes stinging with tears, then ducked into the entrance to the women’s restroom. 

Outside, she heard Hux walk by. Whistling. “Joy to the World”, if she wasn’t mistaken.

Rey leaned against the wall and slid slowly down to the ground as the tears ran silently down her face. 

This is... painful. And yet, if she was honest, somehow completely expected. 

She stifled a sob, her hand pressed hard against her mouth. 

It’s as though Armitage Hux had just given voice to every single desperate, ugly, insecure thought that she’s ever had, that she’s ever battled to shove back down, her most toxic inner monologue enunciated in a crisp British accent. 

It was all a lie. All of it. Every honest moment she’s felt onstage, every seemingly heartfelt compliment she’s been given, every smile of encouragement she’s received... 

Every moment in his arms. All reduced to ash. 

Of course. Ben had been forced to lie. They all had. 

He’d been as supportive and encouraging as he knew how to be. What choice did he really have, he’d been stuck in a no-win situation with a talentless - _hick, do I have that right_? - and could only make the best of it. 

Rey can’t even find it in herself to be angry. Hurt, yes. God, it feels like someone has carved her chest open and removed her still-beating heart. But that’s her problem to deal with, isn’t it? 

The lies were well intended, after all... no one had set out to cause her pain. Luke, Phasma, Leia - all of them, really - had just done whatever they needed to get her through it all. To save the show. 

And Ben, he’d been so... so _kind_. 

_God, what I must have put him through_. 

And now?

Now, if Bazine was coming back, she could... no, she _would_ bow out. They’d all be so glad to have Bazine - their first choice - back where she belonged. And Rey... well, Rey would simply go back to... to not belonging. 

She would be fine. No regrets. She’d had a good run, much better than most. Now she had the chance to make it alright again. To give Ben everything he deserved. His beautiful, intense, fascinating Cassandra was back. His lover, his equal. Someone worthy of Ben. Someone worthy of fucking.

It was the least she could do, considering how he’d... what had Hux said? 

_Propped me up_. 

Yeah. That sounded just about right.

Rey drew in a shaky breath and stood, catching sight of her reflection in the mirror with a groan of dismay. As she splashed her face with water, she considered the best way to go forward.

She’d have to play her cards close to the vest. Phasma was her best bet, she reasoned. Luke would let his hurt pride over Bazine’s departure cloud his decision. Phasma was as pragmatic as Luke was stubborn, and Rey was certain she could be counted on to act in the best interest of the production. After the show tonight, or tomorrow at the latest... she’d talk to Phasma, the sooner the better. They had less than a week before they closed.

Rey would need to give Phasma an out, however. The last thing she wanted was to be kept on for the English tour out of some misguided sense of loyalty. She didn’t want this - _any_ of this - out of pity.

She could probably come up with some vague but plausible excuse that required her to stay in Denver, and she doubted Phasma would dig too hard. Rey was offering a simple solution to everyone’s problems, after all.

Sure, Rey would have to put aside her own feelings of regret. And abandonment. She’d been looking forward to the paychecks from the tour nearly as much as the tour itself. But this kind of disappointment was nothing new. In fact, its familiarity was almost comforting. The music she couldn’t ever hear had stopped, apparently, and she was left without a chair once again.

And if she’d been a fool, and let herself fall in love with Ben Solo... well, she’d known better, hadn’t she? Just like Cassandra, she knew the end of the story and she stepped into his arms anyway. Unlike Cassandra, it would not kill her. But right now... it felt that way.

Rey took a deep breath and made her way back down to the dressing room. Time to put on her mask.

\-----

As luck would have it, Phasma sought her out after the performance.

“Rey, do you have a minute?” 

Rey stopped in the hallway outside the dressing rooms. “Of course, Captain!” she responded sunnily, while desperately racking her brain for a suitable excuse to leave the show with a minimum of drama. _Shit_... She thought she’d have more time to formulate a plan.

“I only wanted to check in with you and ensure that you’re... alright. Things seemed off tonight and -“

“Shit, I am so sorry. Let me know what was wrong and I’ll fix it before Wednesday, I promise, I just -“

“No, everything was fine,” Phasma said - more gently than usual, Rey observed. “In fact, your Thetis was exceptional today, very snarky and funny. You found lots of interesting new choices.” 

Phasma’s brow creased uncharacteristically, and she shoved her hands in the pockets of her jacket. “But it seemed as though you were holding back a bit during Cassandra. I just wanted to make sure everything was alright between you and Ben. I understand that he can be a bit difficult sometimes -“

_Well, shit_ , Rey thought. _I really thought I’d held it together better than that today_. 

“Oh, no, never!” Rey responded, perhaps too enthusiastically. “Ben is -” _th_ _e man of my dreams_. “Ben’s been great. Really... great.” She adjusted her bag across her shoulders. “Sorry if I seemed distracted tonight. I actually wanted to talk to you about that.” 

Rey drew in a deep breath. “You see, I've been worried about being gone from Denver for six months. I just... I have a really good job here” - _a bald faced lie_ \- “and my boss has been really supportive and understanding” - _an even bigger lie_ \- “but I don’t think he can afford to hold my job open until I get back from the tour.” 

There. The biggest lie of all. She knew she was never going back to work for Unkar Plutt again.

Phasma crossed her arms and waited for Rey to continue.

“And of course, I was totally prepared to make it work, but then I heard a rumor that Bazine might be willing to come back” - Phasma cocked an eyebrow in surprise - “and I thought... maybe that’s the perfect solution, if Bazine is able to do the tour?” 

Rey hated how she sounded in her own head. “Obviously, I’m happy to do whatever. I just thought maybe this would be a win-win.”

Phasma did not look happy. 

“Well. I’ll certainly have to discuss this turn of events with Luke. I for one would be very sorry to see you leave the show. But you’ve worked your narrow little ass off these last three months and I could hardly ask you to risk your job over all of this.”

“Phasma, thank you. I just...” Rey paused. And then she pasted a brilliant smile on her face. “I just want everyone to be happy.”

\-----

Rey avoided Ben and managed to sneak out of the theatre unnoticed. She knew he wouldn’t be expecting to come over after the daylong festival performance, so at least she was spared having to make up an excuse. 

As expected, there were no texts or calls to see why she’d left for home without saying goodbye. He would have heard the good news about Bazine by now. It was all so much easier this way.

The show was dark for three days. Rey thought back to the last time they’d had three days off, how she’d cowered under her covers feeling sorry for herself. She would have liked nothing better than to repeat that now, to just cry and binge some terrible reality TV and some even more terrible party pizza. But she really didn’t have the luxury this time around.

The loss of income from the tour would be problematic. The refi would have to wait, now that she'd managed to dig herself an even deeper hole and spent far too much money, money she hadn't yet earned, on a wardrobe that she no longer needed. Perhaps she could bring the Victoria Beckham and the Burberry trench and a few other items back to the store to resell. Rose and Jannah would understand. She’d get a fraction of her money back, but it was something. 

She walked over to Paul and David’s house to let them know she was no longer in need of a tenant for the house during the tour and to thank them for helping her look. They were disappointed, primarily at the news that she wouldn’t be going to England after all, but they didn’t pry; they just let her know how much they were looking forward to seeing the play on Saturday, and then sent her on her way with some homemade scones.

She got on the phone with the manager at Sam’s and made arrangements to get back on the server schedule starting Sunday. It would be a slog following the closing performance the night before, and she’d be exhausted, but the crowds for _The Nutcracker_ were overwhelming and they were glad to have her back. She offered to work as many doubles as they’d give her.

Rey stripped the bed in Maz’s room. She washed and dried, cleaned and dusted and mopped. And then it was like he’d never even been there. 

She moved back upstairs to her little bed under the eaves. But she didn’t sleep. She couldn’t even muster up the will to masturbate. She simply stared up at the steeply pitched ceiling and tried to imagine a life without Ben Solo in it.

She went through Wednesday’s performance of Part One in a haze. Lots of it was muscle memory by now. And then she remembered a long ago piece of advice from an acting teacher, something about being present in the scene, and not in her head.

“If your performance feels good, it means you’re in your own fuckin’ head thinkin’ about what a great fuckin’ actor you are and you’re not in the moment!” Rey was fairly certain that Sean shared this nugget of wisdom while throwing a chair across the room. Or at the very least a coffee mug. Sean was a truly wonderful acting teacher, but he was also an Irishman from Chicago and prone to outbursts.

_Acting has got to be the most frustratingly subjective art form there is_ , Rey mused. _You never really know if you’re any good at it, you just know when you’re bad_.

Although, by that twisted logic, perhaps Rey was brilliant today. She’d certainly _felt_ bad enough.

Phasma had pulled her aside shortly after she arrived, all business. “Luke is not happy. But he understands. We’ll make arrangements for you to be released from the remainder of your contract and...” 

Phasma’s face softened when she saw the look on Rey’s. “Don’t worry, Rey. I’ll make it work. I promise. It’s the least I can do.”

Rey was grateful for Phasma’s direct, no nonsense approach. It spared her from having to pretend any more than necessary.

“Could we... I don’t know, could you please just keep this on the down low for as long as possible? I would hate to disrupt the final few days of the run. And perhaps keep the details to a minimum, I don’t want to make this about me.”

Phasma looked at her curiously. “Of course, Rey. Whatever you want.”

Rey couldn’t help but smile at the irony in that last statement. She’d never come so close to getting what she wanted. She had a feeling she wouldn’t get very close again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ungapatchka" - a Yiddish word my beloved boss Sheila, of blessed memory, used to describe my sister's house. It means something is ridiculously over-decorated. I have a feeling she would also use it to describe this chapter - especially the phone call. She would not be wrong...
> 
> Also, there's probably a one-shot of Hux and Bazine wreaking havoc in here somewhere.
> 
> Yes, I had an acting teacher who threw chairs. But never at anyone. He is a wonderful teacher and I love him with all my heart.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**_Is it worth the trouble it takes trying to live life so that someday you get something worthwhile out of it, instead of it almost always taking worthwhile things out of you?”_ **

_-Carrie Fisher_

“What the everloving _fuck_ , Sutton?”

Rey turned in her chair to face Ben as he loomed in the doorway of her tiny dressing room. She’d avoided the shared dressing room for the remainder of the week, unable to bear it as her soon-to-be-former cast members had buzzed away happily with talk about the upcoming tour. It was grad school auditions all over again, and she just didn’t have it in her.

She drew in a breath and tilted her chin up to meet his glare. “Bazine is back. I’m out. Not sure what else there is to say.”

“You’re out by _choice_!” he thundered. “You’re leaving me - you’re leaving the _show_ by choice!”

“If you’re going to yell at me, the least you can do is close the door,” Rey replied mildly.

He slammed the door so hard the walls shook. “How can you do this to me - to all of us?”

Rey sighed. “Not everything is about you, Ben.”

“You’re not... I can’t -” Ben stammered furiously. “When were you going to tell me?”

“I hadn’t decided, really. I didn’t want to cast a shadow over Bazine’s return to the - how did Hux put it? The _loving bosom of her Tantalus family_.”

“Goddamn it, Rey, you can’t leave... you can’t leave the show.”

Rey stood and faced him, her eyes burning with unshed tears as she struggled to remain calm. “You do _not_ tell me what I can and cannot do. Who the fuck do you think you are? My _friend_? Please. You’ve lied to me since the beginning, you’ve used me to get a good performance. And now you don’t need me, why the fuck do you care what -”

Ben took a step toward her. “Rey, I do care. This - whatever this is between us is -”

“ _This_?” 

Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “There is no ‘this’.” She gestured back and forth between them. “There was never going to _be_ a ‘this’...”

The anger coursed through her. It felt good, probably too good. She should probably be afraid of it. But every hurt, every doubt, every lonely moment she’d ever felt became fuel for the anger, and Rey briefly hoped that it would burn away everything else so she wouldn’t feel anymore.

“Jesus, Ben,” Rey ground out, her voice shaking. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? Like I don’t know _exactly_ how ‘this’ goes?”

Rey bit back the anger and schooled her features. “I was only ever here because someone else didn’t want to be, and now I’m gone because they’re back. I was a placeholder. An understudy. That’s it.”

Rey turned away and looked into the mirror, brushing an imaginary strand of hair from her face. “You were never going to be in my life for long, Ben. A few more months, that’s it. Now... it’s a few more days. What’s the difference, really?”

Ben said nothing. He stood there for a long moment, looking stunned. He hardly knew where to start. 

“Rey, I... you could never be just a placeholder for somebody else. Don’t you know how I... what I feel for you is -”

“Ben, you don’t have to prop me up anymore. You don’t have to lie to me now. I won’t let you down today. I promise.” Rey kept her eyes focused on the counter in front of her. If she looked up at him now, she knew she would lose her nerve and run into his arms.

Ben’s jaw flexed angrily and he looked for a moment like he would say more. And then he turned, opened the door, and closed it behind him. Leaving her alone.

\-----

Rey’s final performance felt transcendent. 

She vaguely recalled a story she read or heard at school, about a director who made his actors run through the woods until they were bleeding and broken and past exhaustion before they performed. Lacking the strength to maintain their barriers any longer, the emotions would apparently flow through them, unchecked. At the time, Rey remembered, she had just rolled her eyes. She’d known real deprivation, after all. Arbitrarily imposed want for artistic purposes seemed self-indulgent and asinine. 

Now she could see the purpose. Rey was so far past the breaking point that she couldn’t be in her head if she tried. There was an instinctive, almost animalistic quality to her performance on that final day. She’d never felt bigger, or funnier, more furious and fearless and more joyous than in her last time performing _Tantalus_. 

And when she stepped into Agamemnon’s naked embrace that one last time, she knew in her soul that she was holding Ben for the last time too.

Following the curtain call, Rey slipped wordlessly back to her small room and packed her things. She was confident that no one would come to look for her. Bazine had arrived the night before to see the closing performance. If she stayed around for the celebration, Rey reasoned, it would only make an awkward situation worse. And the thought of seeing Ben and Bazine together made her gut twist.

Rey jammed a knit beanie over her head, grabbed her belongings and left by the side entrance. 

\-----

Hux was awakened by the sound of knocking on the door of his company apartment. He rolled over and covered his head with a pillow, determined to ignore it. 

The knocking stopped. Then resumed, more loudly and insistently.

“Hux!” Phasma roared through the door. “Get your pasty ass out of bed before I break this fucking door down and drag you out of it!”

With a groan, Hux swung his legs out of bed. He glanced briefly at the sleeping form of Bazine, miraculously undisturbed by the commotion. She was likely still drunk, given the vast quantities of prosecco she’d consumed last night.

“I am coming, you great cow, no need to tear the door off of its hinges,” Hux mumbled, grabbing a towel to wrap around his naked waist and making his way to the door.

He opened the door a few inches, only to have Phasma and Leia fling it open and burst past him in a rush. 

“Armitage Hux, you’ve got some -” Phasma interrupted Leia’s fuming with a hand on her arm and a pointed look at the sleeping form in the bed.

Leia rolled her eyes, but continued in more hushed tones. “Alright, you’ve got thirty seconds to put some clothes on, and then you’re coming with us.”

“I most certainly am not, I’ve got -” Phasma took a menacing step toward him. “Er... rather... I only need a minute.”

Hux slunk into the bathroom briefly and emerged less than a minute later, still disheveled but fully dressed. Phasma opened the door and ushered him out into the hallway, where Leia pressed a firm hand on the small of his back and maneuvered him down the hall to her apartment.

Once inside, Leia spun on him in a fury. “What the hell did you say to Rey Sutton, you manipulative asshole?”

Hux sputtered in confusion. “I - what are you... I never said _anything_ to Rey Sutton.” 

His eyes darted back and forth between the two women. “Honestly. I’ve probably exchanged no more than a dozen words altogether with the girl in the last two months. What the hell are you two on about?”

Phasma drew a deep breath and crossed her arms, then fixed Hux with a withering glare, speaking very slowly and deliberately. “Did you tell Rey that Bazine wanted to come back to the show, Hux?”

“No, of course not. Why would I say anything to Rey?”

“Well, she came to me about it before anyone else knew, Hux.” Phasma’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t even find out until the dinner break last Saturday, and Rey asked me about it immediately following the show that night.” Phasma stepped closer to Hux, staring down at him menacingly. “And the only other person I can suppose that devious little Netal bitch would have spoken to is you.”

“Now see here, there’s no need for name-calling when -”

Leia grabbed his arm in a death grip, her voice dropping to a growl. “What did you say to Rey?”

Hux winced in pain, and Leia let him go, albeit unwillingly. He rubbed his arm. “Yes, yes, alright. Bazine called me Saturday morning to tell me she was coming back. But she swore me to secrecy, she wanted to make certain everything was in place for her return before -”

“Why in the world would Bazine think we were prepared to take her back?”

“Well, Phasma,” Hux sniffed imperiously. “I’m quite certain she thought we would be relieved that her pilot had failed to go to series, and furthermore, that we would be grateful to have a professional actor of her caliber back in the production, rather than that jumped-up nobody.”

“Her caliber?” Leia repeated. “ _Her caliber_? Bazine isn’t fit to -”

Phasma laid a warning hand on Leia’s shoulder. “Let’s stay focused. When, precisely, did you and Bazine speak?”

“She rang me just as I was finishing my body paint. She told me the conversation was of a... sensitive nature, so I snuck up to the business offices in search of a modicum of privacy. There was no one around to hear the call, I can assure you.”

“By the business offices?” Leia demanded. “In the hallway by the two empty ones?”

“Yes, but I don’t see -”

“Goddamn it. _Goddamn_ it. Rey warms up there all the time.” Leia looked up at Phasma with a stricken expression. “She must have overheard...”

Phasma raised a hand to stop her. “Hux, I need to know exactly what you told Bazine. Word for word, don’t leave _anything_ out.”

Hux looked exasperated. “I don’t see why any of this matters when -”

Leia interrupted angrily, glaring at Hux. “It _matters_ because Phas and I just saw Rey at the diner across the street. She was _waiting tables_. She doesn’t know that we saw her, she was working on the other side of the restaurant.” 

She paused, tears welling in her eyes. “I want to know why Rey Sutton was serving breakfast at a diner when she should have been packing for five months in England. I want to know _what_ she heard that would lead her to make up some bullshit excuse to leave the show...” 

Leia paused again, her angry glare shifting to Phasma. “A bullshit excuse which _you_ should never in a million years have listened to, by the way.” 

Phasma had the good grace to look contrite.

Leia looked back at Hux. “So we need to know _exactly_ what Rey overheard.”

“Well, I simply told Bazine what I thought she’d want to hear. The usual sort of thing, ‘Rey isn’t as good as you were, she’s needed help at every turn,’ etcetera... But at least I didn’t tell her that Ben and Rey are making the beast with two backs, I thought it would -”

“What?!” Leia bellowed. “What the _hell_ are you talking about?”

“I didn’t tell Bazine about Ben and Rey. Seeing as how Ben and Bazine were fucking last spring, I thought perhaps if Bazine knew that Rey was fucking him now, she’d be jealous, or upset or...” Hux stopped, taking in the look of disbelief on Leia’s face. “My apologies, Leia. I assumed you knew?”

“Knew what, Armitage? That Ben didn’t sleep with Rey, or that he didn’t sleep with Bazine? I happen to know for a fact he did neither.”

“Well, that’s rather too many double-negatives, even for you, Leia. Bazine told me in no uncertain terms that she and Ben were fucking -” 

Leia scoffed, and Hux ignored it. “Moreover, Rey knows all about Ben and Bazine. I told her so myself on opening night.”

“You... what?” Leia pinched the bridge of her nose. “Goddamn it, Hux, why must you be such a shit-stirrer? I could just -”

Phasma interrupted once again. “All of this is utterly beside the point now, don’t you think, Leia? Let’s remain focused on the task at hand. Why don’t you and I take a walk across the street.” 

Phasma reached for Hux’s arm, and then paused. She reached with her other hand instead, grabbing him by the arm Leia had been abusing moments ago and digging her long fingers into it. Hux went pale. “Care for a spot of breakfast, Iago?”

\-----

Rey was running on fumes. She’d gotten two, perhaps three fitful hours of sleep before her shift at Sam’s began, and the restaurant had been more or less packed since they opened. It had taken a while for her to find her timing again, but by mid-morning she was managing fewer trips between tables and getting her rhythm. 

By sheer dumb luck, Leia and Phasma had been seated in another server’s section across the restaurant and she’d avoided being seen. Too late now to do anything about it, but she didn’t want to explain to Gwendolyn Phasma that this was the “really good job” she’d been afraid to lose.

So when Phasma and Leia reappeared an hour later, seated in her section with a truculent Armitage Hux in tow, she was unable to conceal her mortification.

“I... uh, good morning. How are... I mean... What can I bring you to -”

Leia placed a gentle hand on her arm. “Rey, do you have a moment or two to sit with us?”

Rey’s throat tightened, and her eyes burned with tears of shame. “Oh, I really... no, I’m pretty much in the weeds right now and...”

Phasma spoke up. “Rey, this is rather important. We wouldn’t bother you at work otherwise.”

Rey’s shoulders slumped in defeat. The jig was up, apparently. “I’ll just... let me drop a couple of tickets and check on my tables. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Rey pressed her lips together in frustration. She hadn’t really thought this through. In her panic over money, she hadn’t taken the proximity of the diner to the company apartments into account. She’d be surprised if she didn’t see the entire cast of the show by 3 pm. _So stupid._ If only she’d waited another day or two until everyone was on their way back home...

_Fuck_ , she groaned. Ben. And Bazine. It was only a matter of time before they came in together, wasn’t it? She didn’t know how she was going to get through that in one piece. Although, in all fairness, Ben would probably take Bazine to the Hotel Teatro for a champagne brunch...

She tried to swallow past the growing lump in her throat and reluctantly returned to the table with a carafe of hot water and another of coffee. She remained silent as she poured.

“Rey,” Phasma murmured. “Is this the job you -”

Rey shook her head. 

“Rey, sweetheart, can you sit with us for a minute?” Leia added softly. “We’d like to talk to you.”

Rey shook her head again, and remained standing.

Phasma and Leia both sighed in unison, then exchanged rueful smiles.

“Alright, then.” Phasma continued. “I believe Hux here has a few things he’d like to -”

“Is this really necessary? I mean it’s hardly -” Hux began. Glares from both Leia and Phasma silenced him. “What I mean to say is, I am given to understand that you may have overheard my conversation with Bazine last week, and I want to assure you in no uncertain terms that what you heard could not be farther from the truth.”

Rey favored Hux with a look of utter disbelief.

“Rather, I may have been exaggerating for Bazine’s benefit. I was hoping she would return to the cast, I admit it freely. She’s quite a lot of fun to have around, you see, and -”  
  


“Fun.” Rey replied softly. “I bet she is.”

“What Hux is trying to say - poorly, might I add - is that you are far better in this show than Bazine Netal could have ever hoped to be, Rey. Not to mention a good deal more pleasant to work with. It’s not too late, I assure you. I will happily shuffle things around again. Indeed, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to give Bazine her walking papers this time ‘round.”

Rey shook her head slowly. “It _is_ too late, Phasma. And Hux is right. None of this matters now.”

Leia’s hand appeared on Rey’s arm again. “Sweetheart, is this about Ben?”

Rey’s eyes flickered to Leia’s briefly, bright with unshed tears. _Of course it is_ , she thought.

“Of course it’s not,” she said. “I’m sorry, I really am. I have to get to my other tables. Someone will be back in just a few minutes to take your order.”

After Rey darted away, Leia leaned in, pointedly ignoring Hux, and murmured to Phasma. “It looks like we’re going to have to bring out the big guns.”

Phasma lifted an eyebrow. “When you say ‘big guns’ I can only assume you are referring to Ben. Do you think he can convince her to stay on?”

“Oh, I know he can. No matter what Hux here says, I know that he and Rey have a -”

Hux interrupted with a snort of derision. “Doesn’t matter one jot what he and Rey have,” he mumbled sullenly. “Ben told us all last night he was leaving for Seattle first thing this morning. Flew out to see his father, apparently.”

Leia Organa Solo and Gwendolyn Phasma stared at each other in glum silence as Armitage Hux sipped his tea with a self-satisfied smile.

“Yes, I thought that would shut you two harridans up. Pass the honey, won’t you, Leia?”

\-----

Ben and his father rode in from the airport to Han’s small apartment in silence. It wasn’t like the brooding silences they’d both suffered through during Ben's youth; now the quiet that hung between them was filled with expectation. Han knew Ben had a lot on his mind, but he also knew better than to push. He didn’t ask about Ben’s disheveled appearance, or the bandage on his face, or the bags under his eyes. All in good time.

“Good to see you, son.”

“You too, Dad.”

The silence continued for the duration of the drive. After they arrived at Han’s place in south Seattle, conversation broadened only enough to include monosyllabic questions and grunted replies.

“Beer?”

“Sure.”

“Steak?”

“Rare.”

“TV?”

“Mmhmm.”

They sat in companionable silence as Han flipped through the channels mindlessly. After nearly two hours, Ben groaned and stood up.

“Gonna go for a walk.”

“Sounds good, son. I’ll make up the couch for ya.”

Ben returned perhaps an hour later, after wandering aimlessly around the North Beacon Hill neighborhood. Han was sitting at the kitchen counter with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Ben sat, and Han wordlessly poured them both a few fingers.

“You left your phone behind. Leia’s been blowing it up.” 

Ben sipped his whiskey in silence. 

“Look, son. I don’t know what’s going on. And I know you’ll talk about it when you’re ready. But I’m not gonna feed you some horseshit about women always finding out the truth.”

Han took a swallow of whiskey and sighed. “It’s not their job to find out the truth. It’s your job to tell them the truth.”

Ben looked at his dad wearily. “That’s more or less what Leia said.”

“Hunh. Your mom’s a smart broad.” Han finished off his whiskey and put his glass in the sink. “Well... ‘night, Ben.”

“Yeah, ‘night, Dad.” Ben poured himself another splash of whiskey. “And thank you.”

Han said nothing. He just clapped his son on the shoulder and headed to bed.

The next few days proceeded in more or less the same fashion. One or the other would prepare a meal, they would eat in silence, and then go their separate ways for an hour or two. Ben would go for a run, or he’d watch a movie. He found himself returning again and again to the films of Michael Bay. Han was leading a stage combat workshop at the end of the week, but until then he was mostly occupied under the hood of his ‘65 Ford Falcon Ranchero, a singularly ugly vehicle whose road-worthiness was a constant gamble.

On Wednesday, following a breakfast during which they exchanged perhaps a dozen words, Han simply said, “Get dressed. I wanna show you something.”

Han took Ben out to Bainbridge Island on the ferry, and then father and son drove north to a wooded lot on the east side of the island. Han turned into the driveway and pulled up in front of a massive white clapboard house.

“It was built in the ‘30’s.” Han murmured. “Five bedrooms, a big kitchen, a solarium, an office. Almost two acres looking out over the water.”

“It’s... Dad, it’s great. But what are we doing here?”

They climbed out of the car and walked toward the east edge of the property, where it overlooked the water.

“Friend of mine is looking to sell. He and the missus are getting a divorce. Amicably, I guess. They’ve been married for almost fifty years and just want... I don’t know, I guess they just want different things now. But they wanna do something quick, in cash.”

Han crossed his arms over his chest. “Got me started thinking. About your mom. About you. Don’t want to look back in another fifteen years and decide that it was all a waste.”

“Dad, I -”

“Lemme finish. Your mom and I, we made certain choices about the way we wanted to live our lives. Some decisions, maybe we didn’t have so much control, but in the end we didn’t choose together. We chose separately.” 

Han paused, and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know, maybe it’s a little late in the game. But I want to start making choices together again. Starting with the decision to really _be_ together, I guess.”

Han turned his head and regarded his son with a sad smile. “And then, I saw the way you looked at that little girl of yours back in Denver. And it reminded me of the way I used to look at Leia. And it got me started thinking - what if it’s not too late to have a home, what if it’s not too late to be a family?” 

Ben winced, but said nothing.

Han glanced back out over the water toward the city. “Your mom... well, she’s gonna keep working all over the country, I suppose, but Seattle is as good a place as any for a base of operations. And I’m thinking about starting a small training program for fight directors. There’s plenty of room here to hold workshops, maybe put a few folks up while we’re working. So, I got on the horn with Lando. Figured he owes me one. Hell, more than one. We’re planning to put in an offer on the place this week.”

Han turned to look directly at Ben. “But I wanted you to see it first. Tell me what you think of this cockamamie plan. Tell me if you think your mom will want in.”

Ben turned away from the water and toward his father. “Can we take a look inside?”

Han nodded and they walked toward the house. His friend let them in and showed them around the cluttered, eclectically decorated house. It was very large, but so crammed with furniture and books and art and collectibles that it seemed much smaller. Ben walked around the house with him, nodding wordlessly in agreement as Han detailed the improvements he had in mind. 

Han stopped at one of the small upstairs bedrooms, which was full of sewing and craft supplies. “Make a good nursery, don’t you think?”

Ben’s eyes snapped to his father’s face. “Yeah... sure, Dad. Not sure how Mom is going to feel about that, however.”

Han laughed heartily for the first time since Ben had arrived. “Not for me, you idiot! For you and Rey, when you come to visit.”

Ben’s jaw tightened. Han waved him off. “I know, you don’t wanna talk about it. Come on, let’s head back.”

They drove back to Seattle in silence once more and prepared dinner together. 

Ben paused and looked up from the peppers he was chopping. “Dad, I... I think... I think Mom will love the place. And I would love to come and visit you there. But I think I will be visiting alone.”

Han turned from the stove. “Have you talked to your mom yet?”

Ben shook his head and resumed chopping.

“Well, you need to call her, because now she’s blowing _my_ phone up. Every time I see her on the caller ID I think I’ve fucked something up again and I get heart palpitations.” Han chuckled. “Do your old man and his ticker a favor and call your mother, would ya?”

“After dinner, Dad. Promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Hux. I feel awful for throwing you under the Plot Device Bus. And I have a feeling that Leia's planning some truly poetic retribution for your narrow ass. The "beast with two backs" line is Iago from "Othello". Leave it to Shakespeare to find the absolutely perfect way to describe sex.
> 
> I should also note that waiting tables truly is a proud profession - even if you're as mediocre at it as Rey is. Or as I was. And doing it well takes extraordinary skill. I think the world would be a better place if everyone had to wait tables for a minimum of two weeks.
> 
> The house on Bainbridge Island belonged to my aunt and uncle for years until they sold it and went their separate ways. We celebrated a lot of happy family events there, including my engagement to my current husband.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**_“My Achilles’ heart. Caught in a whirlpool without an anchor, relaxing into it, calmly going under for one of many last times.”_ **

_-Carrie Fisher_

“Peanut...” Finn sighed deeply, his eyes boring into Rey as though he could make her talk through sheer force of will. “You better start from the beginning.”

Rey sat perched on the platform sofa, her knees pulled up under her chin, suddenly fascinated by the texture of the orange velvet fabric. “What did Poe say this couch was called? Brutalist?”

“Yes, Dollface,” Poe said, entering the living room with a bottle of white wine and three glasses. “It’s called Brutalist, and my mother was going to send it to the dump, she had no idea how valuable it is.” He handed her a glass of wine. “Now quit trying to change the subject.”

Rey wondered briefly how they’d gotten the monstrous thing in the door of the condo. It looked like it weighed a ton. “I don’t really want to start from the beginning. I don’t want to even think about the beginning, or the middle. And the end... the end was...”

Rey wasn’t sure how she’d gone from calmly contemplating the midcentury furniture to crying so very quickly. She just knew that she couldn’t stop once she started. Poe hurried to take the glass out of her hands while Finn drew her into his arms. He held her tight as the sobs wracked her body.

Poe moved to hold her as well, handing her some tissues while stroking her back reassuringly. “Shhhhh... it’s alright, Rey. Just let it out.”

So Rey let it out. 

The sobs grew louder and turned into a keening kind of wail. Poe and Finn exchanged worried looks over Rey’s bowed head, but continued to hold her for a few minutes, making soothing sounds while the tears subsided.

Rey drew in a long shuddering breath and blew her nose. “I guess I know now why they call it an ‘ugly cry’.”

Finn stroked her hair gently, and she leaned on his shoulder. “Well, to be fair, I think you’ve been holding some pretty ugly stuff inside. Do you want to talk about it?”

Rey nodded weakly and looked at Finn. “I do. I just don’t even know where to start.”

“Okay, Peanut. Let’s start with why you left the show.”

“Bazine came back.”

Finn scoffed. “Bazine came back because you quit. Why did you quit, Peanut?”

“Because I... because Ben...” The tears threatened again, but this time Rey fought them back. “I’m sorry. I’ve been crying myself to sleep for the last goddamn week. I’m just not going to cry about it anymore.” She sat up straighter, tucking her feet up on the ugly sofa.

Poe took her hand. “Did Ben do something? Is that why you quit?”

She shook her head. “No, absolutely not. He was... he was great. I just -” She stopped to angrily swipe at the tears with the back of her hand. “I just found out how he really felt about me - about working with me. I heard how everyone felt about me. I knew it was the truth. I knew he would be so happy to have Bazine back in the show, and back in his...” Another sob escaped her. “Goddamn it.” 

Finn leaned back on the couch and regarded Rey seriously. “Peanut. What do you mean, ‘you heard’?”

“Well, I heard - I mean, I _overheard_ Hux on the phone with Bazine. He told her that I was terrible, that Ben was just propping me up, that he -”

“Rey, did you ever read any of the reviews?”

“What? No, of course not. Phasma told us not to.”

“And you listened to her?” Finn was beginning to get agitated.

‘Well, I... why? I mean, I don’t -”

“Because, Rey,” Poe interjected. “In every single review, even the bad ones, you and Ben were singled out as the high point of the show. My god, the New York Times called you _mesmerizing_.” He paused and sipped his wine. “And Hux? Not a single syllable about him in a single review. He is the _only_ lead that Isherwood didn’t mention in the Variety write-up. No wonder Hux is making trouble. All that blue body paint, and you and Ben are getting the praise.”

“And,” Finn added, standing up and stalking to the other side of the living room. “Even if you hadn’t gotten some of the best reviews in the entire fucking show, you were so much better than Bazine ever was.” 

Rey snorted. “Rey, I’m serious. This is not your friend Finn, who would take a bullet for you. This is Finn the tech director, who had to spend months watching that self-indulgent, self-centered...” 

Finn stopped his pacing and turned to Rey. “Look, setting aside for the moment that you are a better actor than Bazine Netal, let’s just say that you are a better person. And that the show was - no, _is_ _demonstrably_ better for having you in it. Phasma is...”

Finn sighed and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “Phasma is furious about this. Honest to god. Getting the sets packed up to ship over to England was a nightmare. She kept flying into rages over the smallest thing.” He dropped his hands and looked at Rey curiously. “I’m surprised she hasn’t contacted you, come to think of it.”

“Oh, she has. She and Leia dragged Hux into the diner and forced some kind of half-hearted confession out of him. And Phasma has been calling at least three times a day since Sunday.”

“What did she say?”

“I don’t know. I’m not answering her calls. Or Leia, who has been calling at least twice that much.” Rey’s eyes dropped to her lap, where she was twisting the sodden tissue in her hands. “I don’t want their pity.”

“But you -”

“No, Finn. I mean it. I have a good life. I’ve worked my ass off to get it. I have a roof over my head.” She paused and smiled weakly. “ _Right_ over my head. I am young, I’m strong, and I work hard. And I have great friends. I don’t need a play to make me happy.” 

_I don’t need a man to make me happy._

“I make _myself_ happy.”

“Dollface, of course you do. And I’m not just saying that because this means we can move _Liaisons_ up again. I do _not_ want to do _Orpheus Descending_ with Kaydel, her Italian accent is godawful…”

Rey slugged Poe in the shoulder. “That’s for Kay.”

“Peanut, can we talk about Ben?”

Rey closed her eyes for a moment. “There’s not much to tell. I thought we had a connection. We were only ever -” She took a breath and continued. “We were just friends, but I trusted him. I believed him.”

“You loved him.” 

“Yes, Finn. I still do.” Tears started again, but silently this time. “I don’t know if I’ll ever stop. And so I let him get closer than I’ve ever… I told him things that no one else knows.” She looked apologetically at Finn and Poe. “Not even -”

“Dollface, we get it. You know you can tell us anything, but there are some things that you only want to share with the person you love.”

Rey nodded. “I love you both so much, I truly do, but this was... it felt... it felt so easy, so right with Ben. From the very start. Like I never really had to worry about oversharing, or...” Rey paused, smiling through her tears. “Or overeating, or morning breath -”

“Wait. What?” Finn’s eyes grew wider, then narrowed suspiciously. “I thought you said you were just friends.”

“We were, but he... he spent the night. A lot.”

“Oh my god, is he hung like a -”

“Poe, come on!” Finn interjected. “I swear you’ve been hanging around Kaydel too much.”

“Sorry, babe.” Poe looked appropriately chastened. “So you were friends with benefits...”

“I... yes. I mean, we slept together, but we didn’t - we didn’t _sleep together_. Everything but that. I wanted to, but Ben didn’t. I never wanted to push it, so I didn’t... and then I found out that he and Bazine had been fucking like... what did Hux call it?” Rey leaned back on the couch, drawing her knees up tighter. “Like a couple of randy teenagers, he said. And then he said Ben wouldn’t touch a hick like me with a ten-foot pole, and I just...” 

Rey bent her head and rested it on her knees. “I guess it all made sense, finally. Ben was just trying to make me feel better, trying to get a good performance out of me. Everyone was, I suppose.”

“Hux said all of this?” Finn asked, trying to control his frustration. “And you never talked to Ben about it?”

“Well, no, I...” Rey looked up with a mulish expression. “I don’t want his pity either, Finn. It is what it is, he doesn’t owe me anything.”

“He doesn’t - what the fuck, Rey!” Finn yelled in frustration. “Why are you so goddamn determined to see yourself as unlovable when everyone who knows you loves you? Is it so impossible to believe that maybe Ben loves you too? That Hux is full of shit? That Phasma wants you back in the show because it’s _better for the show_?”

Rey and Poe both blinked at Finn. His face softened and he returned to Rey’s side.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to holler at you, Peanut. But I think you’ve got some phone calls to return. Starting with Ben.”

“Ben hasn’t called.” Rey pressed her lips into a thin line, trying and failing to hold back another round of silent tears. “But you’re right. I should call him, at least to get some goddamn closure. I really need to let this go and move the hell on.”

Poe and Finn exchanged knowing glances over the top of Rey’s head. “Yes, Dollface. You should definitely get some... closure.”

“And then promise me you will call Phasma, please? If I succeed in getting you back into the production, she will throw me a goddamn parade.”

\-----

Rey hurriedly rolled her bike through the side gate of the house and into the garage to lock it up. She’d spent far too long at Finn and Poe’s place, and had barely enough time to get to the store for a few supplies before twilight. The days were so short. There was just a week or so now before the winter solstice.

She slung her backpack full of groceries off her back and turned toward the house. A movement on the back deck startled her, causing her to drop the bag and let out a gasp. 

The sound of traffic falls away, replaced by a humming sound in Rey’s ears. Wordlessly, Ben stalks across the deck, and she moves to meet him. His arms come around her as she burrows her face into his broad, warm chest.

“Ben...” she breathes into him. “I don’t... I can’t... how are you here? I thought you’d gone home.”

Ben places a large hand beneath her chin and tilts her face to look at him. “Sweet girl, I am home.”

Rey takes a step back and peers into his eyes. Neither of them speak for a moment.

Rey quirks an eyebrow and purses her lips. “How long did it take you to come up with _that_ line, Ben Solo?”

Ben’s eyes widen in surprise, and then he lets out a laugh. Rey does not laugh. “We have a lot to talk about, I think.”

Rey snorts in reply. “You bet we do.”

“I brought you some excellent whiskey from Seattle.”

Rey rolls her eyes. “I’ll be the judge of that, Ben. Come on, I’m freezing out here.”

\-----

Rey is tucked up in the corner of the loveseat with her feet folded under her, as far away from Ben as the small piece of furniture will allow, a glass of Westland whiskey in her hand. Ben is correct. It is excellent. But her posture remains guarded nonetheless.

“So. What happened to your face?” Rey gestures at a small bandage on Ben’s cheek.

“Oh, this was... a... shaving accident.”

“Shaving... with a machete?”

Ben chuckles, but says nothing. He just stares at her, waiting.

“So. Why aren’t you back in London already?”

“I couldn’t leave without... I mean, I felt like I needed to...” Ben stops, and runs a hand through his hair. 

_He’s stalling for time_ , Rey realizes. _This is about him and Bazine._

She takes a hurried sip of whiskey, thinking maybe it will help with the lump in her throat. It does not.

“Ben. It’s alright. I understand.” _Time to put him out of his misery_. “What we had - it was great. I really... I so appreciate all you did to help me. And I had... I mean, all the time we spent together, it was...” 

“Rey -”

“No, please. Let me... let me finish this. You were so good to me, and I want you to know that I’m sorry about how I... how I ended things. I want you to know that there are no hard feelings, and you can move on with a clear conscience, back to London, and the show, back to Bazine -”

“Rey, I -”

She ignores him and pushes on hurriedly. “I’m really sorry, I never meant to make you feel guilty, especially about you and Bazine, you shouldn’t have had to come back here just to -”

“Rey!” Ben shouts, causing Rey to flinch. 

“What?”

“Rey, there was no me and Bazine!” Ben practically roars with frustration. He takes a breath and continues, only slightly calmer. ”There never was. There was only ever you, don’t you know that? God, how could you believe that Bazine and I would -”

“You want to know how I could believe it?” Rey’s eyes fly to his, flashing with indignation. Her guard is down now, her cool reserve is gone.

“You really want to know how I could think that you and your _beautiful, fascinating, intense_ Cassandra had more than you and I had? When you never, not one single time, ever called me, or sent me a message, or asked how I was doing. Or how I was feeling. You never came after me. Not once.” 

Rey pauses and her eyes drop. She can’t let him see the tears. 

Her voice is barely a whisper. “You know more about me, about how many times I’ve been left behind, you know better than anyone what that’s done to me. And still, you never once came after me.”

Her shoulders sag. “And then you left.” 

Ben flinches now, as if she’s hit him. “I’m here now.”

“But you’ll leave again.”

“Rey, I can’t leave you. I won’t leave you, not ever again." Ben starts to reach for her, but stops himself. "God, I am so sorry, for everything. Please believe me. I am here to tell you that... goddamn it, Rey... I’m in love with you.”

Rey raises her head slowly, her eyes searching his, looking for a sign that she misheard him. She regards him silently for a moment before her eyes drop again. She takes another sip of whiskey and fiddles with the cording on the loveseat’s slipcover. 

“No, you’re not,” she mutters bitterly.

Ben hadn’t known what sort of response his admission would receive, but he didn’t expect this. 

He continues in a rush. “I am in _love_ with you, Rey. I have been for... god, it’s been weeks now but it feels like forever. I think I started falling in love with you the first time I saw you on a stage in that shitty play, you were just so beautiful and so vulnerable, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. And then I see how brave and brilliant you are in _Tantalus_ , like a force of nature, and I see how you make me better, how you make the whole play better, and then when we’re together offstage, I feel so complete when I’m with you, and so totally lost without you, I can’t -“ Ben finally pauses to breathe. “I can’t live without you.”

Rey finally looks up at Ben, her eyes shining with tears. “You love me?”

“I do, Rey.” He reaches out, finally, gently brushing a tear from her cheek. “I should have told you from the beginning, I know. We wasted so much time - no, _I_ wasted so much time... the last three months were torture. I never thought I could love someone this much. But I convinced myself that you didn’t feel the same, that you _couldn’t_ feel the same. You’re so young, and so strong and beautiful, you don’t -”

Rey places two slender fingers on his lips and interrupts Ben, and then wordlessly takes his glass and sets it down on the coffee table alongside her own. She is unable to put into words all the things she is feeling in this moment. 

Maybe she can show him.

Silently, but deliberately, she moves over him, straddling his broad, muscular thighs. She runs her hands through his dark, silky hair and lowers her mouth to his in an insistent, possessive kiss. He moans into her open mouth as her tongue tangles demandingly with his, and his arms reach around her back to press her closer. 

Ben’s lips move away from her mouth to nuzzle her neck, searching for the spot behind her ear that he knows from experience will turn her into a writhing mess. 

“ _Kentucky Cycle_ wasn’t a shitty play, Ben Solo.” Rey mutters between sighs.

“No, the lighting design was very good, Rey.” Ben continues to mouth at her neck.

Rey whimpers. “Kay’s speech to the miners’ wives was wonderful...”

“Yes, it was very... loud.”

Rey bends and claims Ben’s mouth with hers again, if only to stop any further commentary. She moves her tongue purposefully through his mouth, and then sucks his lower lip, eliciting a groan from him. His hands move up along her back, and he slowly slides his long fingers up under the hem of her shirt, but Rey firmly moves his hands away and gives Ben a slow, determined shake of her head. She leans back and pulls her shirt up over her head herself. Then she begins to grind slowly on his hardening cock. 

“God, Rey... you feel so... please let me touch you.”

Rey holds his gaze, but shakes her head once more.

After a lifetime of taking only what she is given, Rey looks down at this beautiful man and decides she will take what she deserves. All of it, all of _him_. 

She removes her bralette, then reaches down for his shirt. With one decisive gesture, she rips it open and sends buttons flying, revealing his broad, beautiful chest. She runs her hands across his pectorals, stopping to tease his nipples with her slender fingers before shrugging the shirt from his shoulders and bending down again to swallow Ben’s groan with her mouth. Her hips continue to swivel relentlessly against him, and he thinks for one unnerving moment or two that he will come right there against her clothed cunt.

As if she can sense how close he is to release, Rey suddenly climbs from his lap. Ben nearly whimpers at the loss of contact, but Rey holds his gaze as she shimmies out of her leggings and boyshorts. He reaches for her, but she gently knocks his hands away with a stern look of warning. She is... in charge. And she is glorious. Ben has never wanted anything so much in his life as he wants this woman.

Rey leans down and unfastens his jeans with deft fingers, pulling them and his boxers briefs off with a lift of Ben’s hips, and throwing them to the floor with her own discarded clothing. Then, in a single swift motion, she straddles him once more, hovering over his straining erection. She plants a steadying hand on his shoulder and wraps the other around around his cock, dragging it through the wet folds of her cunt as he suppresses a shudder of desire. 

Rey has never wanted anything in her life as much as she wants this man inside her. Right now. God knows she’s waited long enough. 

She leans in and murmurs into his ear. “Do we need... anything?”

Ben shakes his head emphatically. “No, no... I was tested before I left London, and... oh, god, that’s -” Ben shudders again at the feel of her. “There’s been no one in almost a year.”

Rey leans back slightly and stares at him intently. “No one?”

Ben looks up at her. _So she had believed the worst. How she must have hated me._ “No. There was no one else. And there will never be anyone else. Only you.”

Rey closes her eyes for just a moment, and then, before Ben has a chance to say anything more, she leans in and positions herself over him, sinking onto his cock just a few inches. She gasps at the stretch of her cunt around him. He reaches for her and places his hands on either side of her waist, and to his relief she allows him to hold her. He notices how close his hands come to spanning her waist completely. She is so small in his grasp, and yet so strong. 

As if to prove this, Rey sinks still further, taking more of him into her warm, wet channel. She breathes deeply, raises herself perhaps an inch, then lowers herself past the halfway point. Ben’s eyes drop from hers to the place where they are joining, and he is transfixed by the sight. 

“My god, Rey... you’re so tight, so wet... it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”

Rey determines how far and how quickly she can take him. He moves a hand to cover the flat plane of her belly and puts the pad of his thumb against her clit. His eyes meet hers again and she gives him a nod, followed by a sigh as he flicks his thumb over her swollen bud. 

With another breath, Rey raises herself up once more and then in one swift move, she impales herself on his cock. They both gasp in unison and she lunges forward to grab him by the shoulders. Rey swears she can feel him nudging her womb, he is so impossibly deep inside her, and she can feel every inch of him as she slowly pushes up and then down, burying him to the hilt. 

“Ben, I... I feel you everywhere.”

Nothing has prepared Rey for the sense of complete connection she feels with Ben inside her. She had no idea she could feel so vulnerable and at the same time so powerful.

She begins to move more assertively, and he can feel the walls of her cunt clenching as she fucks herself up and down the length of him. She is impossibly warm and yielding and perfectly tight around him, like nothing he’s ever experienced. Ben moves a hand under her thigh to help steady her, but the other remains on her stomach, thumbing her clit. She leans back just a fraction, and he swears he can see and feel the movement of his cock through the walls of her abdomen.

Ben has never felt this close to anyone in his life, and still a part of him yearns to be closer, to possess this beautiful woman completely and still be totally at her mercy. He feels a momentary twinge of anger at the realization that they could have - they _should_ have been doing this for weeks, months even. Had he known just how perfect she would feel, how right it would be inside her...

Rey’s movements quicken, and Ben senses the fluttering almost at the same time he feels his balls tighten with impending release. He is determined to make her come on his cock before he lets himself go, and redoubles his efforts on her clit. Rey’s back arches, and he circles her waist again with both hands to steady her just as she cries out, coming warm and wet around him. She falls forward against him and his arms tighten around her as the walls of her cunt continue to shudder around him. 

Ben holds her for a few silent moments, and then, in one swift motion, he picks her up and flips her over on her back. With one leg braced on the loveseat and the other on the floor, he thrusts into her for another minute as she bucks against him, her hands gripping his ass to force him even deeper, even closer. As she moans his name, Ben comes with a growl, harder than he ever thought possible, her legs wrapped tightly around him.

He holds himself up for a few moments, the muscles in his arms shaking slightly with the effort, and gazes down at Rey in disbelief. “I love you.”

Rey smiles. “I know.”

“And I hate this loveseat.”

“I know,” Rey responds with a laugh. 

Ben pulls back to a sitting position again, and Rey takes the blanket off the back of the much-maligned loveseat, covering them both before snuggling up against him with a satisfied sigh. 

Ben kisses the top of her head. “We have a lot to talk about.”

Rey burrows deeper into his chest with another sigh. “I know.”

They are both silent for a long moment. “Ben?”

“Yes, sweet girl?”

“I love you too.”

Ben’s arms tighten around her. The talk can wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I guess I should state at the outset that I love Brutalist furniture. But it's... a lot of look. Not everyone's bag, for sure...
> 
> This chapter was hard to write. Not gonna lie. My hat's off to those of you who write smut on the regular - you are the real heroes. But it was Rey's emotional vulnerability here that I found hardest to capture. Let's just say that writing this chapter brought up a lot of things about myself that I don't like to acknowledge and leave it there.
> 
> I want to take a moment here to recognize the Herculean efforts of my beloved Notquitegreylo, who started out as my beta and then had to shift into alpha mode on the fly. She guided me through the hardest parts of this chapter in the kindest, most supportive way imaginable, while not letting me get away with anything. This fandom brought us together, and she truly represents the very best of it. I am beyond grateful for your friendship, Bunny.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**_“I don’t hate hardly ever, and when I love, I love for miles and miles. A love so big it should either be outlawed or it should have a capital and its own currency.”_ **

_-Carrie Fisher_

“Yes, Phasma... alright, I... No, that’s perfect. I’ll be there. And... Phasma? Thank you.”

Rey disconnects the call and slowly places her phone on the kitchen counter. Ben, who has been busy pretending not to eavesdrop while he prepares breakfast, finally turns to Rey with an expectant grin.

“Well?”

“You were absolutely right. Phasma held off on changing travel arrangements. She held off on... well, on _everything,_ as far as I can tell. Luke was going to pull me aside at the closing night party and -” Rey shakes her head slowly. “Phasma seemed pretty confident in his ability to convince me with his Jedi mind tricks, apparently.”

Ben pulls the Dutch baby pancake out of the oven and sets it on the counter, then wipes his hands on a kitchen towel, his brow furrowing.

Rey catches his look and feels a familiar churning in the pit of her stomach. He looks up at her and takes in her crestfallen expression, and immediately drops the towel and takes her in his arms.

“Sweet girl,” he murmurs into her hair. “I’m sorry, I was just remembering what a fucking debacle the closing night party turned into.” 

Ben releases her with a squeeze, and then busies himself cutting up the pancake and putting it on plates. “All these people - good god, Rey, do you have any idea how many people came to see you on closing day? Your neighbors, and Rose and Jannah, Poe and Kay and her husband, at least a dozen people from _Kentucky Cycle_. Four of your professors from Boulder - and by the way, I have a pretty good guess which one of them had you beaten with pillows - and some guy named Wedge, I think?”

Ben puts Rey’s plate in front of her and sits. “At any rate, all anyone could talk about was you. And all I could _think_ about was you. Every five seconds, someone’s asking ‘where’s Rey’ and every time I hear your name it’s like I’m being stabbed in the gut. And then Bazine...”

Ben cuts into his pancake with more force than strictly necessary, his mouth working angrily. “Fucking Bazine. Swanning around, drinking Lando’s booze like she’s still a member of the company and it’s her right, telling anyone who will stand there long enough how she’ll be replacing you for the tour and -”

Ben stops himself, and looks up to see Rey’s stricken expression. “God, I’m sorry. I swear, I never shit-talk fellow cast members - even _former_ fellow cast members. You never know when they’ll become future fellow cast members. But Bazine, she just... and then, when my mother told me that you thought we’d slept together -” 

Ben drops his fork and puts his head in his hands, rubbing his forehead. “Fucking Hux.”

Rey reaches for him and pulls his hands from his face, holding them in both of hers. “Ben, I’m sorry I didn’t come straight out and ask you. I’m sorry I assumed the worst. And instead of talking to you I ran away. I just...” 

Rey draws in a deep breath and continues in a rush. “It’s like I have this idea in my head of who I am, and what I deserve. When people act the way I expect they will, it reinforces those ideas, and when they don’t act that way, I assume they’re lying.” Tears silently stream down her face. “All of these people in my life, they treat me like I’m somebody, like I matter to them, and at the end of the day I really don’t believe them. I still feel like I’m nobody.”

Ben gently squeezes her slender fingers with his, then releases them to carefully brush the tears from her face. “And then I slink off alone, expecting someone to chase after me, to tell me that it’s alright, that they love me, that it’s all true... and somehow, no one ever does.” Rey lets out a hiccupping sob. “And then I’m alone, and it feels like that was always how it was supposed to be.”

Rey swipes angrily at the tears with the heel of her hand. “It’s stupid, I know, I expect people to read my mind or something. I know it’s my own baggage to deal with, it’s colossally unfair to ask anyone else to -”

“Rey, I did come after you.”

Rey blinks through the tears. “You - what? When?”

“Opening night, after you kissed me, I looked for you.”

“I was... I was in my dressing room. I spent the night there.”

“You spent the - damn it, Rey. I waited in the lobby for an hour or more. I wanted to make sure you were alright. I never thought you’d stay down there all night and - fuck. I’m an idiot, I should have gone down to check.” Ben runs his hand through his hair. “And closing night?”

“Well, closing night, I just... snuck out, I guess. I really couldn’t bear the thought of seeing you and Bazine together, trying to pretend to be happy when... when all I wanted was to be with you. I didn’t even care about the show anymore and...” 

Rey trails off, then shakes her head. “No, that’s not true. I did care about the show, I hated leaving it, I felt like I was quitting all over again, it was just like college. But then... just like college, I didn’t feel like I had any good options. Hux made it sound as though no one wanted me, especially you, and... well, why would he lie? Besides, it all fit the script that I’ve written for my life pretty neatly. So I assumed it must be true.”

“And you think... you think no one came after you that night either.”

Rey looks at Ben, and slowly nods.

“So, Leia and Phasma didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“I _did_ go down to the dressing rooms looking for you on closing night. You were gone already, and your room was cleared out, like you’d never even been there. And I...” Ben sighs and runs both hands through his disheveled hair. Rey has never seen _that_ particular move.

“I may have trashed your dressing room.”

“You _may_ have...”

“Yes. I _may_ have picked up your chair and smashed the dressing room mirror, along with several of the lights. I caught a fragment of flying mirror here.” Ben gestures to the bandage on his face.

“Oh my god, Ben, you’re lucky you didn’t lose an eye.” Rey reaches out and gingerly touches his face. “And speaking of luck... how many years of bad luck do you suppose you have to look forward to when you break a mirror backstage? That sounds like some serious fucking tear-in-the-fabric-of-space-and-time level bad luck.”

Ben lets out a surprised laugh. “You’re not... you’re not appalled by my behavior?”  
  


“Appalled? No... I mean, I’m furious with you for putting yourself in danger like that, and not a little angry that I wasn’t around to watch Phasma read you the riot act for it -” Ben laughs again. “But I can’t help but be... I don’t know, _flattered_... is that terrible? I don’t know if anyone’s ever cared enough about me to truly get _mad_ at me.”

“It is not terrible, Rey. And I don’t know if I’ve ever felt that kind of rage, even as a teenager. I mean, I was far more angry at myself than at you. And also pretty furious with Bazine, if I’m honest. And Hux. Oh... he and I are going to have a very long, _very_ unpleasant conversation. And I don’t even want to speculate about the methods by which Leia’s going to exact her revenge on him.”

Ben’s jaw flexes angrily. “But losing my temper like that... I promise you I am not going to do anything like that again. It’s some pretty toxic shit.” 

Ben looks intently at her and takes her hand again. “Rey, I am so sorry. I should have come after you, every single time. I should never have let you run away, I should have chased after you to the ends of the earth. And I should have told you weeks ago how I felt. I just assumed you didn’t feel the same way, you were always so cool and nonchalant about everything and I’ve never felt this way about anyone…” 

Ben pauses when he sees the look of doubt on Rey’s face, and lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Look, I am in this for... for the long haul, as Han would say. And I know you and I both have... let’s just call them _trust issues_ , alright? I can’t begin to imagine what your childhood was really like, and I hope to earn your trust so that someday you can share some of that -”

“Ben, your childhood was no great shakes -”

“No, Rey. Believe me, I am not here to compare and contrast our shitty childhoods. I may have felt ignored, or slighted, or handed off from one absentee parent to another, but I always knew I had a safe place to be, I knew where my next meal was coming from. I’m not sure, but I don’t believe that was always the case for you.”

Rey says nothing, just presses her lips together in a thin line. Ben strokes the back of her hand gently with his thumb. “We are going to have to work hard to gain each other's trust, I know that. But I also know that I love you, more than I ever thought I could love someone, and I will do whatever it takes to make this work.”

Rey smiles uncertainly but squeezes his hand. It’s hard to trust her own eyes, much less her own heart. This man - _this beautiful man_ \- in her kitchen, in her bed, in her _life_. How can she believe that this is what she deserves, when she’s spent her whole life convincing herself otherwise. 

Maybe if she can’t trust herself yet, she can put all of her trust in him, and hope for the best.

Rey squeezes his hand again, then pulls hers gently away and picks up her fork. She proceeds to dig into the Dutch baby, shoveling an enormous bite of pancake and baked apple into her mouth. “I will also do whatever it takes to make this work, Ben,” she says around the mouthful of food, “As long as you keep making me breakfast.”

“I will make you breakfast every day for the rest of your life, sweet girl. As long as you never ask me to fuck you on that loveseat again.” Ben picks up her free hand and kisses her palm in a way that makes Rey’s thighs clench. “I will fuck you on every other flat surface in this house, but that loveseat has got to go.”

Rey swallows the last of her pancake and slides their plates out of the way with a sly smile.

“Better put your money where your mouth is, Ben Solo.”

\-----

True to his word, Ben makes up for lost time on several horizontal surfaces, and some of the vertical surfaces for good measure. They discover, by happy accident, that the built-in tile bench in the master bedroom shower makes for some truly interesting positions. But mostly, Ben and Rey spend the next two days in bed. _Their_ bed, as Rey has at last come to think of it. Ben seems to have a mercifully short refractory period, and Rey seems to have an insatiable need for Ben, so it all works out remarkably well.

Rey makes some more calls. The folks at Sam’s No. 3 seem genuinely sad to see her go, much to her surprise, but they have no shortage of viable candidates to replace her on the server schedule. 

Word has already spread among her circle of friends, and Rose has started a group text. Kaydel, alas, has discovered both memes and gifs, and regularly blows up the group chat now that she has found a suitable platform for her sarcasm. 

Jannah and Rose cheerfully agree to sublet Rey’s house, given its proximity to the civil rights law firm downtown where Rose works. Jannah thinks that the loft will make an excellent spot for podcast recording, and Rose thinks it will make an ideal location for her clothes and shoes. Rey leaves it for them to work out.

Phasma makes arrangements for Ben, Leia, and Rey to return to London together. The English cast members have gone home already, and the rest of the American cast won’t depart for London until after the new year. And Han will join them for the last ten days of December to celebrate the holidays together. As a family. Ben was absolutely correct, he has a _lot_ of miles accrued. Han will return to his new house - _their_ new house - on Bainbridge Island after the first of the year, when the three of them start rehearsals in England. 

Ben reveals that he’d spent five months working in a pizzeria before he was asked to replace Carlisle in _Tantalus_. Somehow, Rey had imagined Ben living a glamorous cosmopolitan life as the regularly employed member of a repertory theatre company, with a loft in a swanky London neighborhood. She is rather pleased to discover that she is dating a pizza waiter with a drafty flat in the dicey part of Southwark. Ben, for his part, feels fleetingly guilty for dashing her image of him to pieces, but he makes it up to her with a marathon of oral sex that leaves his jaw aching.

In any event, Ben and Rey are not certain where they’ll go after _Tantalus_ closes. Rey thinks they might head to Seattle for a time so they can help Han with renovations at the house, and Leia has promised to put them in contact with the folks at Seattle Rep. Ben offers to return to Denver so that Rey can fulfill the terms and conditions of her “blood oath” to Poe, even though Poe has officially released her from any further obligation. 

For the first time in recent memory, there are so many choices laid out in front of them - all of them good ones - and Ben and Rey only know two things for certain: first, they will make each of these decisions together, and second, they will make the choice to _be_ together for every one of them. 

\-----

“I think that’s the last of it.” 

Rose crosses her arms and surveys the room with satisfaction. She is in her element, directing Jannah as she and Kaydel unpack boxes and bags throughout the house while simultaneously ordering Ben and Rey around as they take suitcases and carry-on bags to the car. 

Rose has meticulously planned out and stowed Rey’s life into matching packing cubes, taken dozens of photos of outfits and accessories, and issued threats of violence should Rey deviate from the organization in any way. She has also extracted a promise from Rey that she will not resort to wearing ratty band t-shirts and leggings while on tour, even ironically. 

“Good lord, I hope that’s all. There’s no more room in the Kia.” Leia strides in the door, shrugging off her coat. “I deeply regret my decision to refuse Lando’s offer of a car service. But I feel guilty enough about our first class upgrade, I just couldn’t rationalize it.”

“Leia, you _earned_ these upgrades. A week staying in the same house as Lando’s wife?” Rey drapes an arm over the smaller woman’s shoulders. “You’re the real hero.”

“Sorry we’re late! Poe got stuck on a conference call with members of the city council.” Finn comes through the front door, arms stacked with pizza boxes from Marco’s. “Ben, I brought you the limoncello chicken wings.”

“You’re a gentleman and a scholar, Finn. I’ve eaten enough pizza for a lifetime,” Ben says with a wink at Rey. He takes the boxes and sets them on the tiny dining room table, stepping out of the way as their friends descend on the pizzas like locusts.

Everyone arranges themselves in the small living room, pizzas and wings and beers balanced precariously on laps. Ben sits on the stairs, and Rey settles a step below him, between his knees. 

Poe updates them on the situation at the Denver Civic. He and Kaydel are hard at work looking for a new play _and_ a new theatre, since they discovered that the producer only wanted them to mount _Les Liaisons Dangereuses_ so he could play the lead. 

“Valmont. The Alan Rickman role.” 

“Yes, Rey. The John Malkovich role,” Poe clarifies, rolling his eyes. “At any rate, leaving aside the fact that he has no acting experience whatsoever, Kaydel was able to discern that he is motivated primarily by a desire to be naked onstage with one or more young female actors.”

“I’m not sure I want to know how Kay was able to ‘discern’ that,” Ben muses.

“Oh, I think I can guess,” Leia retorts, elbowing Kaydel. The two of them are huddled on the loveseat together. Rey is grateful that she washed the slipcover before Ben’s mother sat there.

“So, I’ve been working with Tanya and Anthony at El Centro Su Teatro to see if we couldn’t get them installed as the resident theatre company at the Civic. But now it looks like we may be able to get the financing together for them to buy the building outright.”

“Meaning your theatre company is homeless once more,” Finn adds. 

“Worth it. If the city council approves it, then Su Teatro is where they belong, and I am back to square one. But I am tenacious and Kaydel is terrifying. Between the two of us, we’ll get it worked out.”

“I can’t believe I’m turning into a producer. Gonna produce myself right out of another acting gig. It’s alright, I’m getting too old to play hookers, I’ll have to start playing madams now.” Kay shakes her head, then brightens up. “Can I get a casting couch?”

Everyone laughs, but not quite as hard as Kaydel does.

“So, what’s the plan?” Finn leans forward and gives Ben and Rey a lopsided grin. “Off to The Big Smoke for Christmas?”

Rey leans back into Ben, and he wraps his arms around her shoulders, planting a kiss on her head. “That’s the plan. We fly out tonight on the red-eye. Rey and Leia have a room at The Hoxton -”

“By which he means _I_ have a room at The Hoxton, where Rey will _theoretically_ be staying.” Leia interjects.

Rey laughs. “It’s Ben’s first time home in nearly nine months. I want to give him some space.”

“Han is coming in on the 22nd, and I’ve been given a list of London tourist traps as long as my arm -”

Rey interrupts Ben now. “They’re _not_ tourist traps. We’re doing a rock and roll tour of London. I want to see the Soho doorway from The Who song, and Abbey Road, and -”

“We’ll see it all, Rey. I promise.” Ben leans down and nuzzles her neck. “We’re going to be there for most of January rehearsing before we start the tour.”

“How many towns on the tour?” Poe asks.

Leia responds, as Rey and Ben have become distracted by one another and are no longer paying proper attention to the conversation. “We start in Manchester at the end of January, I think six days there? Then Nottinghamshire for ten days over Valentine’s Day, Buckinghamshire for a long weekend, a week in Newcastle, down to Norwich for another weekend at the beginning of April, and we finish at the Barbican in May.”

Kaydel groans. “A bus and truck tour of England for a Tony nominee. There is no justice in this world, I swear.”

“No, I’m looking forward to it, I promise!” Leia retorts. “Well, almost all of it. The idea of being stuck on a bus with Armitage Hux...”

Leia pauses and looks thoughtfully off into the middle distance. “Shame if something happened to him. I wonder how good _his_ understudy is?”

Ben and Rey are paying attention again, having heard Hux’s name taken in vain. “Oh, Hux does a sufficient job of making himself miserable. He doesn’t really need our help, does he?” Rey looks at Ben, who nods in agreement, then shakes his head vigorously at his mother after Rey looks away.

“Where are you off to after that?” Rose asks Leia.

“Well, I’ve been cast in the Utah Shakespeare Festival repertory season next summer. I have just enough time to get from London to Cedar City for the start of rehearsals.” Leia’s face lights up. “ _T_ _antalus_ has been a challenge, don’t get me wrong. But I’m looking forward to really flexing my muscles again. I’m set to play the Nurse in _Romeo and Juliet_ , Dottie Otley in _Noises Off_ , and Paulina in _A Winter’s Tale_.”

_“What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me?”_ Kaydel murmurs, then sees Ben’s surprised look. “Paulina was my classical audition monologue in school. That, and Constance from _King John_.” Kay sees Ben suppress an eye-roll and laughs. “I know, they were both _way_ too old for me. I was just never a Juliet, ya know?”

Ben and Rey exchange a knowing look, and say in unison “Hot Character Actor Paradigm.” Then they laugh.

“Oh, great, inside jokes already. You two are quickly becoming insufferable,” Jannah scoffs. “What time is your flight again?”

“Well, we’ve got a few hours yet, but we should head over to DIA now.” Leia’s voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do not let this get out to the rest of the cast, but our esteemed producer upgraded our seats. We’ve got access to the British Airways Executive Club.”

“Well, aren’t you fancy.” Kaydel elbows Leia, and then grows sad. “I’m gonna miss you, Leia. Who am I going to drink with when you’re gone?”

Finn leans in. “Oh, you know what they say in regional theatre, Kay. ‘No one’s ever really gone.’ I’ve heard rumors from the front office that they’ve approached you about next year’s rep company, Leia. Any truth to that?”

“It is true. But you didn’t hear it from me.” Leia rises, all business. “Alright, children, if you can pause your canoodling just long enough to get off those stairs, perhaps we can head out?” She hands Jannah the keys to the Kia. “Take good care of my baby. Or, failing that, leave the keys in it and make sure it gets stolen. It’s truly a piece of shit.”

Jannah takes the keys with a grin. “I’ll drive it like it’s a rental, no worries.” She heads out the back door to pull the car around.

Ben and Rey exchange tearful goodbye hugs with Poe and Finn and Rose, while Kaydel and Leia exchange a few hushed private words. 

As they leave, Ben looks down at Leia questioningly. “What was all that about?”

“Oh, you know, just a few words of advice about being a good mother.” Leia sees the confused look on Ben’s face and smiles. “From Kaydel for me, not the other way around. I’m learning from my mistakes.”

Ben opens the car door for his mother, as Rey climbs in from the other side. He stands there for a moment. “You didn’t make any mistakes, Mother. You made the best decisions you could under the circumstances, and I wouldn’t ask you to take a single one of them back.” 

Ben pauses, and adjusts the seat belt on Leia’s shoulder. “And I am incredibly proud to be your son.”

Leia reaches up, and places her hand on Ben’s cheek for a moment. “And I am extraordinarily proud to be your mother.” Leia wipes a tear away with the back of her hand. “Now come on, I’ll buy you a drink at the Executive Club.”

Rey leans in. “Aren’t the drinks free at the Executive Club, Leia?’

“Shhhhh, dear...” Leia turns in her seat and pats Rey’s hand. “You are obviously an inexperienced traveler.”

Ben folds himself into the backseat next to Rey. “You know, I think we need to find you a new favorite sonnet, sweetheart.”

“Oh, we do. Sonnet 87 definitely doesn’t work anymore...”

Leia twines her fingers with Rey’s and recites the first few lines.

_“Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,_

_And like enough thou know’st thy estimate,_

_The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;_

_My bonds in thee are all determinate.”_

Rey continues, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

_“For how do I hold thee but by thy granting?_

_And for that riches where is my deserving?_

_The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,_

_And so my patent back again is swerving.”_

Ben takes up the last of the sonnet.

_“Thy self thou gavest, thy own worth then not knowing,_

_Or me to whom thou gav’st it else mistaking;_

_So thy great gift, upon misprision growing,_

_Comes home again, on better judgement making._

_Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter,_

_In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.”_

Jannah glances in the rearview mirror at Rey. “God, that’s sad as hell. A whole sonnet about not being good enough to be loved?”

Rey laughs. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Ben reaches a hand toward Rey, and she clasps it in hers. “I can give you _my_ favorite sonnet. If you want it.”

Rey nods. “Yes, please.”

Ben turns his eyes back to the road ahead of them, squeezes her hand a little tighter, and begins.

_“As an unperfect actor on the stage,_

_Who with his fear is put beside his part,_

_Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,_

_Whose strength’s abundance weakens his own heart;_

_So I, for fear of trust, forget to say_

_The perfect ceremony of love’s rite,_

_And in mine own love’s strength seem to decay,_

_O’ercharg’d with burthen of mine own love’s might._

_O! let my books be then the eloquence_

_And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,_

_Who plead for love, and look for recompense,_

_More than that tongue that more hath more express’d._

_O! learn to read what silent love hath writ:_

_To hear with eyes belongs to love’s fine wit.”_

“ _For fear of trust_...” Rey repeats softly, as Leia turns back to give them both a smile. “Yes, I believe that will do very well for a new favorite sonnet, Ben Solo.”

Ben murmurs, just above the roar of the car engine. “We will share it then, Rey Sutton.” His smile widens until his dimples appear. 

Rey returns the smile. “We will share everything.”

They both look ahead at the road stretching before them, his hand clasped firmly in both of hers. “Everything,” Ben nods. “You deserve nothing less.”

Rey rests her head on his massive shoulder. The silent, maddening game of musical chairs is finished, and she has found her very own spot next to Ben. He’s correct. She deserves nothing less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my self-indulgent love letter to Denver, theatre, and - most of all - Ben and Rey and the people who write about them. I came to this fandom after TROS, looking for a happier ending, and in the last year I've read hundreds of brilliantly written happy endings. And I've cried at least once a day as I read them. So thank you for breaking my heart and fixing it every day. You inspire me.
> 
> Again, let me reiterate that anything here that does not suck is thanks to my beloved Notquitegreylo - she is the alpha and the omega.


End file.
